


Crossroads

by Nihes



Series: Master and Apprentice [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: AgriCorps (Star Wars), Angst and Feels, Bullying, Gen, Jedi Apprentice series rewrite, Mostly Canon Compliant, Obi-Wan Needs a Hug, Qui-Gon is a mess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2019-10-22 21:05:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 41,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17670065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nihes/pseuds/Nihes
Summary: Every Jedi Initiate's biggest dream is being chosen as a Padawan and to become a Jedi Knight.Every Jedi Initiate's worst fear is being declared a failure and sent away to the Jedi Service Corps.For Initiate Obi-Wan Kenobi time is running out. Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn is his last chance to fullfill his dream and become a Padawan. However, after a devastating betrayal Qui-Gon has vowed to never again take a Padawan, and especially not an average Initiate with anger issues and a history of violent outbursts.





	1. Promises

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Bound](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4227606) by [Qwae29](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qwae29/pseuds/Qwae29). 



> This is my attempt at rewriting the Jedi Apprentice Series for a more adult audience a.k.a me trying to conquer my writer's block. Can be read as pre-Canon (except for perhaps a few details: Master Dooku will make an appearance) or as a prequel to my 'uncertain path' AU.

The loading ramp of his transport lowered with a hiss, and the first thing Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn noticed of his new surroundings was the smell. The distinctive stench of machine oil mixed with fuel fumes and another indeterminable aroma endemic to Coruscant that always reminded him of furniture polish usurped the sterile non-smell of the recycled air of his small ship, and Qui-Gon had to suppress the urge gag.

Once upon a time the distinctive smell of the Jedi Temple hangar used to tell him that he was home, that another long mission was over and that it was time to rest and enjoy the company of his fellow Jedi before the next mission would drag him and his Padawan away again. He would walk through the hangar and the adjourning corridors of the Temple towards his quarters with his beloved Padawan Xanatos at his side, tired but content after another successful mission, while they joked about what the Council would have to say about their latest exploits and Qui-Gon's unorthodox methods to solve this crisis or another. Xanatos would snicker at the thought of Master Windu's sour face upon hearing about Qui-Gon's rule breaking and Qui-Gon would tug at the young man's Padawan braid in fond exasperation.

But that was the past.

As he inhaled the odorous hangar air now all he could smell was the stench of failure and betrayal. This place no longer was home, but a place he was forced to return to every six months between missions because the Jedi High Council insisted on it and because he had made the mistake of making a promise to Master Yoda. 

There were no words to describe how much he regretted that promise.

The ramp of his ship finally hit the duracrete floor of the hangar with a dull thud, pulling him out of his thoughts. Qui-Gon dragged his mind back to the present, doing his best to banish all thoughts of his past, and forced himself to walk down the ramp one painful slow step after the other. 

Alone.  

Because that was what he was these days.

He was alone. 

And it would stay that way no matter how much Master Yoda, Tahl or, even worse, Master Dooku harassed him. He had tasted the bitter flavor of betrayal and he could do without a repeat performance. Unfortunately, some people had a tendency to blatantly ignore his wishes in that regard... the tiny green figure currently waiting for him at the edge of the landing platform being the worst of them.

Qui-Gon honestly considered turning around and flee, several flimsy excuses already running through his mind as to why he had to leave the planet immediately again. However, common sense and simple exhaustion won against instinct as he directed his tired steps toward the venerable Grand Master of the Jedi Order. 

He had already refused to return to the Temple six months ago, claiming that the situation on the planet he had been on at the time was too tenuous for him to leave. Which had been a blatant lie, and he was not stupid enough to believe that Master Yoda or the Council had actually bought it. For some reason they had decided to not call him out on it and accepted his refusal to return.

However, there was no chance whatsoever that Master Yoda would let him get away with breaking his promise two times in a row. There was no getting out of this, this time.

Resigning himself to his fate, Qui-Gon stopped in front of the much smaller Jedi Master and bowed deeply in a demonstration of respect.

"Master Yoda," he greeted the ancient Jedi Master, waiting for the unavoidable lecture to begin. He just wanted to get this over with and go hide inside his quarters. Perhaps he would feel a bit better after a hot shower, a good meal and a few hours of sleep. 

After Master Yoda was done tearing into him, that is.

He inwardly steeled himself for what was to come. However, to his surprise Master Yoda said nothing, seemingly content with leaning on his gimer stick and silently gazing up at Qui-Gon with his deceptively sleepy eyes, looking like a harmless little green troll to everyone who didn't know better. 

But Qui-Gon did know better, which made the troll's silence all the more disconcerting.

The tall human Master kept his face as impassive and dignified as possible as he waited for his sentence to be passed. Despite the fact that he was a seasoned Jedi Master and towered above the diminutive Grand Master by at least a meter, at the moment he felt more like a child waiting to be chastised by his parent for being naughty than the distinguished diplomat that he was. Master Yoda had that effect on people if he wanted to.

The silence became increasingly awkward until Qui-Gon couldn't take it anymore and broke it first.

"Master?" Still no reaction except for a slight narrowing of Master Yoda's eyes and a twitch of his expressive ears. "Is there anything I can help you with?" Qui-Gon asked pointedly.  _'Just get it over with, you old troll, so I can go and hide in my closet until I am allowed to leave again,'_ he silently added inside his mind. 

Unfortunately, Master Yoda didn't seem to be in a hurry. The little green troll only tapped his gimer stick against the floor as he scrutinized his counterpart.

"Late, you are," Master Yoda finally said in a tone full of accusation.

Despite knowing better than to poke the proverbial rancor, Qui-Gon couldn't help himself. The 'Maverick' reared his stubborn head and he answered,

"I agree, Master Yoda. It is far past my usual bedtime, so if you do not mind, I would like to retire and catch up on my sleep." He tried to sidestep his diminutive foe and make a beeline for the exit, only to be stopped by a gimer stick smacking his shins... hard.

Qui-Gon hissed in pain, cursing the little green troll under his breath, as he rubbed his aching legs and glared at his green-skinned adversary, who looked far more menacing than should be possible for such a small and seemingly fragile creature. Unimpressed, Master Yoda only narrowed is eyes and pointed his cursed gimer stick at him in a threatening gesture.

"Too old, I am, for this. Mind your manners, you will. Talking about the time of day, I was not. Well aware, of this, you are. _Late_ , you are!"

Qui-Gon felt his hackles rise.

"I am right on time to fulfill my promise, Master Yoda. If I choose to arrive the night before the tournament, then that is my business and mine alone. I promised that I would attend and here I am. We never agreed on me arriving any earlier than strictly necessary." 

Master Yoda huffed in annoyance.

"And leave again, you will, immediately after the tournament is over. Allow yourself to rest and heal, you do not. Properly honor our agreement, you do not. Present at the tournaments, you are, but really pay attention, you do not. Tired of this game, I am!" 

Yoda waved his gimer stick through the air for emphasis and Qui-Gon's eyes followed the movements of the troll's preferred weapon warily. Force knew, Master Yoda didn't need a lightsaber, his 'walking stick' was much more threatening than any plasma blade.

Still, the little troll could hit him with his gimer stick as much as he wanted, Qui-Gon would not budge on this matter. He squared his shoulders and did his best to stare his diminutive adversary down.

"You cannot force me to take another Padawan, Master Yoda, and no matter how much you pester me or how many Initiates you continue to throw at me, in the end it is _my_ choice and my choice alone whether I decide to teach again or not. And I have decided against it. You might not agree with that decision, but you have to accept it!" 

Yoda harrumphed.

"Force you, I cannot. But accept your neglect of your duties because of your moping, I will not anymore either."

 "I am not neglecting any of my duties! I successfully complete more missions than -" Qui-Gon protested, only for Master Yoda to interrupt him.

"Complete many missions, you do. But lacking, your reports to the Council are. Not submitted any _written_ reports, you have, in  _years_."

It was Qui-Gon's turn to huff.

"There is no point in -" 

Master Yoda ignored his protest and talked right over him, punctuating his point by poking his gimer stick at him."

"Change, that will, now. Decided upon this, the Council has, a few days ago. Done with indulging your childish behavior, we are. Follow the proper procedure like everybody else, you will."

Qui-Gon's eyes narrowed. What was the Council up to? His recorded verbal reports were perfectly satisfactory and none of the Council members had complained about the lack of written reports for half a decade, so what was the point of ....

Was that glee dancing in Master Yoda's eyes? Oh, this did not bide well at all. Alarmed Qui-Gon opened his mouth to defend himself and his reports, but Master Yoda preempted him.

"Submit in-depth written reports for all your missions of the last six months, you will. Not be given any new missions, you will, until met, the Council's demands are."

Qui-Gon couldn't help it, his jaw dropped.

"What?!" he sputtered. "Master Yoda, you cannot be serious!" He simply couldn't be! He hadn't written any reports since he had been granted the rank of Master, and after a little bit of grumbling, the Council had given up on him and accepted it. Writing all those reports would take _forever_ , meaning he would have to stay in the Temple _forever_. 

Master Yoda cackled at his expression of utter disbelief.

"Perfectly serious, I am. Failed to properly assess the situation on a mission, you have, six months ago. Worried about your ability to complete missions on your own, the Council is, because of it. Stay in the Temple, you will, until assuaged, the Council's concerns are, and write reports, you will." 

Qui-Gon's blood chilled. He should have known better than to lie to the Council. Of course, they wouldn't simply accept that and pretend it never happened. This was their revenge, or rather Yoda's revenge for him breaking his promise. 

Master Yoda's tone became serious again.

"Worrisome, your behavior has become. Running from your past, you are. If continue to refuse to stop and catch your breath, you do, force you to, the Council will. Stay in the Temple, you will, write reports, you will, and attend the Initiate Tournament, you will, until satisfied the Council is, that able to perform your duties, you are." 

In other words, until he bowed to Master Yoda's wishes and took another Padawan.

With that, Master Yoda turned on his heels and hobbled out of the hangar bay, leaving behind a shell-shocked Qui-Gon Jinn.

He had no idea how long he stood there, frozen in shocked disbelief, until a clattering noise from an adjourning landing platform finally threw him out of his stupor. He reflexively grabbed his lightsaber, looking for a possible attacker, only to see two furiously beeping maintenance droids argue over a couple of toppled crates in the otherwise abandoned hangar bay.

Droids! 

Qui-Gon snorted and purposefully relaxed his posture, his shock beginning to be replaced by the first glimmer of stubborn determination and, perhaps, anger as he stormed out of the Temple hangar. 

Master Yoda wanted reports. Qui-Gon would give him reports. He took a quick look at his chrono. It was well past midnight, but the night was far from over. 

And, well, if he had to stay up all night to 'write' reports, then nobody could blame him if he was somewhat _inattentive_ during tomorrow's - or rather today's - Initiate tournament. Master Yoda wanted to play games with him? Then they would play a game, but they would do it on Qui-Gon's terms! Oh, he would fulfill his promise of attending the tournament and he would 'write' the most _detailed_ reports the Council could wish for.

But. He. Would. Not. Take. A. Padawan. No matter what Master Yoda said or did. 

Qui-Gon could dig in his heels like the best of them. He would meet the Council's and Yoda's demands to the letter and he would do it in record time. Then he would be out of this cursed place of painful memories before the week was over - _without_ a Padawan in tow.

But first he had to 'borrow' something from the administrative offices of the Temple and download the recordings of his verbal reports from the Temple's data network.


	2. Food Fight

Senior Initiate Obi-Wan Kenobi stared at his untouched scrambled nuna eggs and tried in vain to not notice all the conspicuously empty chairs positioned around his dining table. The Initiate commissary hummed with a mixture of excited and nervous chatter that blended together into an unusually loud background noise reminding him of a frantic beehive, as over a hundred Senior Initiates speculated loudly about the outcome of this term's Initiate tournament. 

The room was almost filled to capacity with his fellow Senior Initiates eating their morning meal... And yet Obi-Wan's table was empty except for him. 

He shouldn't be surprised or hurt by it. He really shouldn't. After all, he had often enough seen the very same thing happen to other Initiates who were about to age out. Force, how often had he himself guiltily avoided the company of members of the 'Loser League', because he couldn't shed the superstitious fear that being associated with any of them would turn him, too, into a loser in the eyes of the Masters?

And yet he couldn't help it. It hurt. It hurt to have to eat his morning meal alone because nobody wanted to sit with him, and it hurt to see how the other Initiates avoided eye contact as they did their best to safely steer clear of him. 

At least his friends had stood by his side... until now, that is.

He peered at another table not far away where Garen and Reeft were deep in conversation, undoubtedly discussing who had the highest chances of winning the tournament today and who would find a Master afterwards. At least they had the decency to be in a more somber mood than the other people in the room. Their conversation was much more subdued and there was no wild gesticulating with their eating utensils. But they had decided to not sit with him. Fear won over friendship it seemed. 

 _'It doesn't matter,'_ he reminded himself sternly. _'I still have a whole month left to find a Master, and as soon as I am a Padawan things will go back to normal. All I have to do is win today's tournament and surely somebody will see that I can be a true Jedi and choose me as their apprentice. Winners always find Masters, no matter their other failings.'_

Yeah... all he had to do was to somehow beat over a hundred other Senior Initiates in lightsaber combat, who were all also desperate to impress the attending Knights and Masters and be chosen as Padawans... no big deal.... shouldn't take him longer than five minutes....Whom was he kidding...

He might as well start packing his meager belongings and volunteer to be sent away to the Service Corps today instead of being carted off against his will next month. There was no way he would win a lightsaber match against the likes of Bruck Chun, let alone a whole tournament.

He was doomed.

Feeling suddenly nauseous, Obi-Wan gave up on his halfhearted attempt at eating and let his still unused fork clatter onto his plate of cooling nuna eggs, before shoving the whole tray away from him. He no longer had the strength to even pretend that everything was normal.

As if being able to smell his desperation and ready to dive in for the kill, Bruck Chun, also known as Obi-Wan's worst nightmare, chose that very moment to suddenly materialize in front of him. The other twelve-year-old boy stood there, holding a tray filled with various bowls in his arms, and smiled down innocently at Obi-Wan. However, Obi-Wan was not fooled by the seemingly friendly expression on Bruck's face. He recognized the malicious glint in the boy's eyes and the Force around them vibrated with warning. Obi-Wan tensed involuntarily. 

His reaction did not go unnoticed and Bruck's smile turned into a broad smirk.

"Good morning, Oafy-Wan. You don't mind if I sit with you, do you?" Without waiting for a reply, the other boy dropped into the chair opposite Obi-Wan and started eating his generous portion of porridge. Obi-Wan was too surprised to reply immediately, causing his uninvited companion to snicker between mouthfuls of his meal. Without thinking Obi-Wan's eyes flickered toward a long table in the middle of the room where Bruck's gaggle of friends - or rather his sycophants - were enjoying themselves, though a few of the older ones looked rather tense, undoubtedly feeling the pressure of making a good impression during the tournament. 

What the hell was Bruck doing here sitting with him instead of them? Nothing good, that was for sure. 

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes in suspicion at the interloper.

"What do you want, Bruck?" 

Bruck pretended to be disappointed by the less than welcoming reception and declared in a mocking imitation of a wounded tone,

"Oh my, can't I keep a friend company without my intentions being questioned? I just noticed how _alone_ you are, Oafy-Wan." Bruck fixed his piercing, pale blue eyes on him, studying Obi-Wan's face for any signs of emotion, but Obi-Wan's expression gave away nothing. He had heard much worse from Bruck in the past year and he had heard the monicker 'Oafy-Wan' so often that it should have lost its bite a long time ago. So he kept his best sabacc face firmly in place, even if Bruck's words had hit their mark perfectly. 

Unsatisfied with the lack of reaction, Bruck continued,

"So I thought to myself, Bruck, you can't let the poor loser sit here, all on his own. After all, he is soon going to be kicked out of the Temple due to his utter incompetence and sheer unworthiness. It is only fair that you sacrifice a little bit of your precious time to cheer the soon-to-be farmer up, since even his _friends_ have by now given up on him." He motioned towards the table where Garen and Reeft were sitting together, before leaning forward onto the table and whispering in a conspiratorial tone as if he was about to share an especially sweet secret,

"You know, Oafy-Wan, rumor has it that the Council has decided to send you off to the AgriCorps immediately after the tournament tonight because you are that much of a _failure_  that they see no reason to bother with letting you stay for another month. They consider you to be too much of a waste of time and resources." He leaned back into his chair and licked his spoon clean, his eyes dancing with glee. "Tell me, Oafy-Wan, is it true? Are you really that much of a failure?"

 _'Do not listen to him. Do not listen! He only wants to get a rise out of you.'_  Obi-Wan repeated those words like a mantra over and over in his head in order to stop himself from doing something stupid like planting his fist into Bruck's smug face. He had enough of a reputation for having an uncontrollable temper as it was and could not afford to add another black mark to his record. He should just get up and leave. There was nothing Bruck could do to him here, where several Docents and almost two hundred other children were present. Let Bruck sit here and stew in his own malice. 

But if he did that, if he fled now in plain sight of everyone, then Bruck would only spread some kind of story about how Obi-Wan had run off after breaking down in tears of desperation because he was about to age out or something even more humiliating... and most people would believe it! No, leaving was not an option, not if he wanted to preserve at least a last shred of his dignity. So Obi-Wan remained seated. It was better to face this Sith-spawn who somehow passed as a human being head on.

He forced himself to smile and mockingly rise his eyebrows at Bruck in return.

"I think you misunderstood something, Bruck. That Council meeting was not about me. The Council was discussing you. After all, who would want a bully and a cheat as their Padawan?"

To his satisfaction, Bruck's pale face turned a dark shade of red and his expression became ugly. 

"I do not need to cheat to be top of all my classes!" he hissed.

"You mean like last year when you swapped my philosophy essay for yours because you knew mine was better? Oh, and don't forget that you have yet to beat me in any kind of debate in a diplomacy workshop. But don't worry, nobody is going to hold that one against you. What use would a Jedi have for things like honesty or negotiation skills, after all?"

He gave Bruck a brilliant smile and, pretending to not have a care in the entire world and to not notice the hatred burning in Bruck's eyes, Obi-Wan pulled his abandoned tray with food towards him to finally eat his morning meal. The eggs had gone mostly cold by now and were barely palatable, but he would not show any weakness in front of Bruck. 

Everything was fine. He would find a Master today - after he had beaten the crap out of Bruck in the tournament. He was not worried about his future at all. Life was good. 

After a long silence, Bruck forced a smile onto his face. It looked unnatural and slightly predatory. Though from afar it might look friendly. 

"Ah, yes, I have that one black mark against me, thanks to you being a tattletale. Remind me, how many reprimands for aggressive or violent behavior do you have again? I forgot. Is it a dozen yet?"

It was Obi-Wan's turn to feel the heat rising to his face. 

"You mean because you continue to set me up?" he spat. "I didn't let you get away with cheating that one time, over a year ago. When are you going to get over that? Are you going to try and ruin my life until we are both old and gray?"

Bruck's false smile became genuine.

"No, only until next month, because then I will finally have succeeded and be rid of you, _Oafy-Wan_."

Obi-Wan saw red.

It was enough. Damn the consequences!

Before he knew what he was doing, he had jumped to his feet. His chair toppled over from the force of it and crashed loudly to the floor behind him. Heads turned towards their table, but Obi-Wan was beyond caring. He was already reaching for his plate of scrambled eggs to throw it into Bruck's smug face and finally _shut the bastard up_ , when somebody let out a yelp of surprise and another tray full of food sailed through the air and ended up being upturned right over Bruck's head. A second later the offending tray and a cascade of bowls and cutlery clattered to the floor, followed by a pink-skinned Mon Calamari girl who barely managed to avoid landing in the remnants of her own morning meal. 

Obi-Wan froze in mid-movement and blinked in astonishment at the unappetizing mixture of gruel and foul-smelling brown sauce suddenly dripping down Bruck's stupefied face.

 It was a ridiculous sight. 

Bruck Chun, who always took so much care to be meticulously groomed and look the part of the perfect, dignified Jedi Initiate, looked like a tooka cat who had just crawled out of an especially dirty sewer. His exotic white hair was smeared with brown gruel and some unidentifiable green stuff was draped in his short ponytail. His freshly pressed white Initiate robes were splattered with the smelly brown sauce and emanated a stench that reminded Obi-Wan strongly of old fish.

Half the commissary was staring at them now and the tables around them had gone quiet. Nobody moved. Then the young Mon Calamari girl behind Bruck struggled to her feet with a curse and the spell was broken. Several people actually dared to giggle behind their hands before returning to their own conversations and Obi-Wan couldn't help it. He burst out laughing. 

Oh, this was so much better than showering Bruck with his cold nuna eggs. 

Bruck's expression quickly changed from stupefied to murderous and he finally finished his aborted movement of shoving his own chair back and got to his feet. He towered above the unfortunate young Initiate whom he had just shoved to the floor, a very ugly expression on his face.

Obi-Wan continued to laugh so hard that his ribs started to hurt and he had to fight for breath. 

There was no joy like malicious joy. 

Bruck's face turned a deep shade of purple and he snarled at the unfortunate girl cowering in front of him,

"What the hell, do you think you are doing, you oaf? Are you too stupid to carry a tray without falling over your own two big fish feet?" 

The Mon Calamari girl paled, causing her salmon skin to turn a pinkish gray. 

"I... I -", the girl stuttered, looking with wide, frightened eyes up at Bruck, whose hand was twitching next to the hilt of his lightsaber hanging at his utility belt and whose eyes were shooting daggers at her.

" 'I... I...' You, what?" Bruck mocked, "have you swallowed your tongue or are you too stupid to even speak, Bigfoot?" 

Obi-Wan gasped for breath and taunted,

"Oh Bruck, you really can't blame _her_ for the fact that _you_ are too stupid to use your eyes and look before you stand up. But I have to say, that new look suits you. Now your outside finally matches your inside: slimy and revolting. The rotten smell is the icing on the cake, though. It really catches the essence of your being."

Bruck's head whipped around so fast that it was a miracle he didn't pull a muscle. If looks could kill, then Obi-Wan would undoubtedly have dropped dead that very second. Unfortunately for Bruck, that was not how it worked and he had to tolerate Obi-Wan grinning shamelessly at him. He could of course simply punch Obi-Wan right here in public, but that was not how Bruck Chun operated. Bruck knew how to present himself as the perfect Jedi, or even better, the innocent victim in front of other people. His facade only slipped when nobody else was around or if he could hide in the anonymity of a crowd.

Oh, how good it felt to see Bruck humiliated in front of everyone. Bruck Chun, unofficial ruler of the Initiate wing and bully extraordinaire was covered in disgusting gruel and smelling like a dead fish!

Obi-Wan would cherish the memory of this moment until his dying day. Force knew, Bruck needed to be taken down a few notches.

Obi-Wan knew that his eyes were dancing with glee and that Bruck would do his best to make him pay for this whole affair later, but he couldn't care less about 'later' at the moment. It was far too satisfying to simply enjoy this moment of universal justice. 

Before Bruck could spew more poison at Obi-Wan or the Mon Calamari girl, a serving droid arrived and began to admonish them all loudly in its high-pitched, mechanic voice for creating such a mess, before beginning to mop up the spilled food. One of the Docents followed on its heels surveying the scene and taking in Bruck's soiled state, the Mon Calamari girl's terror and Obi-Wan's barely contained glee.

"May I ask what is going on here?" she asked. The elderly woman's eyes wandered from Bruck to the girl and then Obi-Wan, her gaze lingering suspiciously on Obi-Wan before returning to Bruck.

Before Bruck could open his mouth and twist the truth to his advantage, Obi-Wan jumped in.

"Bruck and I were having an argument, Master Tikal." It was better to admit that. People had seen him topple over his chair. "It got a little bit heated and Bruck tried to jump up from his chair. In his agitation he didn't notice that Senior Initiate -" he looked inquiringly at the girl,

"Bant Eerin," the girl supplied as she squared her shoulders. She looked like she had composed herself enough to not squeak in terror anymore.

"- Bant Eerin was just walking past him with a full tray in her arms. As a result he shoved his chair into her and this," Obi-Wan gesticulated at Bruck, barely suppressing another chuckle, "was the result. It was an unfortunate accident, Master Tikal."

Master Tikal narrowed her eyes at him, her eyes flickering toward his abandoned tray with nuna eggs still sitting on the table that had clearly not been thrown into Bruck's face and Obi-Wan's good humor evaporated.

Surely she couldn't blame him for this, could she? He hadn't even done anything! Admittedly, he had been in the process of teaching Bruck a much needed lesson, but he hadn't had the chance to actually do it. Yes, he had lost his temper - again - but he had not actually touched Bruck! 

Bruck too noticed Master Tikal's gaze lingering on Obi-Wan and his eyes narrowed minutely in contemplation. Obi-Wan could practically see the gears whirring in Bruck's brain as he tried to figure out how he could get Obi-Wan punished for this.  

Thankfully, Bant chose that moment to chime in.

"I am sorry, Master. It was also partly my fault. I didn't notice that Initiate Chun was about to get up and walked straight into him. I deeply apologize for my lack of attention and the trouble it has caused Initiate Chun." Bant rattled off the apology with practiced ease before bowing formally in apology and Obi-Wan blinked in surprise.

Huh? That sounded like she was used to having to apologize to people. Like she did this every other day.

Nevertheless, it did the trick. Master Tikal focused her attention on Bant and her eyes softened as she nodded.

"Very well. Be more careful in the future, Initiate Eerin. You could have held an ignited lightsaber in your hands and seriously hurt someone." 

Bant bowed her head in meek acceptance.

"Yes, Master."

Master Tikal turned back toward Bruck and Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan quickly schooled his features into something resembling Jedi tranquility. 

Her face hardened as she looked at the two of them.

"Initiate Chun, Initiate Kenobi, you will both go and meditate for exactly an hour about controlling your negative emotions as soon as you have finished your morning meal and cleaned yourself up. I am aware that tensions are running high with today's tournament, but that is no excuse for giving in to your anger and resentment like that. Your behavior is unbecoming of a Jedi." She paused for a moment and took in Bruck's faked innocent expression. "Initiate Chun, I understand that you and Kenobi are not exactly friends and that you have good reasons to dislike him, but that is no justification  for purposefully provoking him every chance you get. And don't even try to deny it! I saw you walking up to him. You sought his company in the hope of getting a rise out of him." 

Bruck immediately played the part of the repentant sinner.

"Yes, Master. I apologize for my misconduct."

Obi-Wan couldn't believe what he was hearing. An hour of meditation?! He needed that time to prepare for the tournament! And _Bruck_ had reasons to dislike _him_?!  _He_ was not the bully here! Why did people never see that -

Master Tikal gave Obi-Wan an icy glare that cut off his train of thought and made him gulp.

"And Initiate Kenobi... your shameless display of malicious glee at your fellow Jedi's misfortune is troublesome to say the least. You should really consider if you want to continue to go down the path you are on. You are walking on very thin ice as it is and I can assure you that no Knight or Master will choose a Padawan who takes joy in watching others being humiliated." 

Obi-Wan wanted to protest. He was not the one who was enjoying to humiliate other people. Bruck had started the whole argument out of sheer spite and in order to get him into trouble. Couldn't she _feel_ his malevolence?

But before he could say a word in his defense the elderly woman stalked off and left him alone with Bruck and Bant. Bruck wiped the remnants of food from his face with a nonchalant gesture of his hand.

"Thank you very much, Oafy-Wan. Now I have to waste an hour of my life to _meditate_  on how worthless you are." He turned towards Bant and his eyes narrowed with barely contained fury. "And Bant..." he trailed off to give her a sinister smile," you will _really_ feel sorry for embarrassing me today."

With that ominous threat hanging in the air, Bruck turned on his heels and strode out of the commissary, undoubtedly to clean up and regain his dignity.

Bant gaped at his retreating back in utter disbelief. It looked like Bruck's unmasked, real self did not live up to his reputation as the flawless star Initiate he had been so careful to cultivate.

Obi-Wan could commiserate, even if a very small part of him felt something like relief at the thought that Bruck seemed to have found another victim to torment. He guiltily squashed that feeling immediately. Nobody deserved that, much less this girl who looked like she was about ten years old and had just left the crèche to join the Senior Initiates. And the first thing that happened to her was to accidentally make an enemy out of Bruck Chun, because she had walked past him at the wrong moment. Her life was about to turn into hell. And it was Obi-Wan's fault - even if only indirectly. The least he could do was try to prepare her for what was to come. His time was almost up, he would not be around to help and protect her and - 

No, he wouldn't think things like that! He would find a Master today, he would not be sent away to join the Service Corps. He would make a good impression and prove himself worthy of being a real Jedi.

Obi-Wan picked up his tray and walked around the table to tug on Bant's sleeve. Her eyes snapped around to focus on him.

"I am sorry that you got caught up in this," he murmured. "Come on, let's fetch you a new tray and I will explain while you eat."


	3. Advice

Bant could only gape at the retreating back of the boy she knew to be Bruck Chun, _the_ Buck Chun who had won last term's Initiate tournament, excelled in all his classes and even tutored some of the younger Initiates who had problems with their coursework.

He was the Senior Initiate everybody strove to become.

Bruck Chun was supposed to be clever, charming and kind, not that volatile, rude and downright cruel person she had just met. True, it was said that he had little patience for fools and could sometimes be a little bit arrogant, but nothing like _this_.

Had she really insulted him that badly? 

Bant wanted to roll her eyes at herself. ' _You fool! You just spilled your food all over him, including your stinking fish juice, and embarrassed him in front of every one. Of course he is mad at you! What did you expect? That he would praise you for this latest display of your infamous clumsiness?"_

But he had outright _threatened_  her at the end. Or had she misunderstood something? She had to have misunderstood that!

Before she could figure out the mystery of Bruck Chun's strange behavior, somebody tugged at the sleeve of her tunic. She turned to look at the other boy who had been involved in this mess: Initiate Kenobi. This had to be Obi-Wan Kenobi, Bruck's rival who had accused him of stealing his essay last year, regularly started fights with Bruck because he was jealous and who was, at least according to the rumor mill, the sole reason why Bruck had not yet been picked to become a Padawan. 

"I am sorry that you got caught up in this," he murmured. "Come on, let's fetch you a new tray and I will explain while you eat."

Explain? Explain what? The reason why he thought that it had been okay for him to mock Bruck so mercilessly just moments ago? Did he think that she would become his ally because of what had just happened and wanted to recruit her for his bullying? Well, he could forget that. She had heard all about him and wanted to have nothing to do with him!

She refused to move and ripped her arm from his grasp.

"Thank you, but I do not associate with people like you, Initiate Kenobi!"

His posture stiffened at her cold tone and his eyes turned to shards of blue-gray ice. She watched in horrified fascination as his infamous temper threatened to break loose. Then he closed his eyes, took a deep breath and a few seconds later his whole posture relaxed visibly. When he looked at her again, he seemed to be in control of himself once more, though his tone was overly formal as he replied,

"I apologize for making you uncomfortable, Initiate Eerin. I only wanted to warn you. You have publicly humiliated Initiate Chun - even if it was unintentionally - and he will never forgive that. You should be prepared for his revenge. Be careful to not let him catch you alone, keep an eye on your possessions and whatever you do, do not let him get under your skin. He will belittle you, spread lies about you and try to provoke you into doing something he can get you punished for." His face turned grim. "I know what I am talking about and if you ever need help or simply somebody to talk about it you can come to me."

Bant only snorted. Sure, that was what she was going to do... ask Obi-Wan Kenobi - who was about to turn thirteen and be shipped off to the AgriCorps if the rumors were true - for help. That laserbrain was delusional if he thought that she was falling for his stupid lies. Did he really think she was so stupid to believe any stories he told about Bruck?

Kenobi's eyes narrowed in irritation at her lack of enthusiasm for his 'advice', but Bant refused to be intimidated. He seemed to want to say something else, but chose not to. Instead he gave her a formal bow.

"May the Force be with you, Initiate Eerin."

Without waiting for her to give the customary reply, he turned around and stormed off towards the nearest reclamation unit, his tray of barely touched food balanced precariously in his arms.

Bant shook her head and walked back to the service line to get another portion of her favorite fish pap. 

By the Force, her first week as a Senior Initiate was certainly turning out to be interesting. Now she only had to somehow not completely embarrass herself during her very first Initiate tournament (Mon Calamari feet were designed for swimming and not for swordplay, so what?!) and then she would track down Bruck and apologize properly to him. Perhaps she could congratulate him after he had won the tournament? That should get him into a friendlier and more forgiving mood. Yes, that was a good plan. 

And perhaps she should also make sure to stay as far away from Kenobi as possible or he might try to talk to her again. The last thing she needed was for her friends to think that she had befriended that douchebag.

 

***

 

Obi-Wan stormed blindly through the majestic corridors of the Temple. 

He was stupid. Had he really thought that this girl would listen to a word he said against Bruck? The _great_  and _magnanimous_ Bruck Chun whom everybody loved and who somehow valiantly endured all the unfair treatment he got from the volatile failure that was Obi-Wan Kenobi? 

Oh, Bruck was _so great... yeah, great at deceiving and manipulating people to his advantage, great at lying and great at getting away with harassing those who were weaker than him. What an achievement!_

One of these days he would - 

No, he shouldn't even think stuff like that. It would get him nowhere and his control over his temper today was already far too fragile without him purposefully fueling his anger. 

_There is no emotion, there is peace._

_There is no passion, there is serenity._

Easier said than done...

Obi-Wan forced himself to slow down to a more dignified pace and take several deep, calming breaths. He passed through a light-filled hall and effortlessly weaved through the early morning crowd of Knights, Masters and Padawans on their way to the main commissary or heading back to their quarters in the residential wing after an early morning meal.

' _Trust in the Force, Obi-Wan_ ,' he reminded himself as he sidestepped a tall Togrutan Master. _'Bruck will receive his comeuppance at some point. Nobody has chosen him as their Padawan yet despite the fact that he has won the last Initiate tournament six months ago, so the Masters can't be completely blind to his true nature. And if there is anything resembling justice in this galaxy, then he will be the first tournament winner to never be chosen and will end up in the Service Corps where he belongs._

_'Just like you do,'_  a little voice whispered in Obi-Wan's head and he couldn't suppress the shudder of dread that followed it. His stomach clenched and for a moment he thought that the little food he had been able to swallow would make an embarrassing reappearance, but the moment passed and he hurried on towards the Room of a Thousand Fountains to meditate.

Though 'room' was a rather inaccurate term to describe the enormous indoor park that was commonly called 'Room of a Thousand Fountains'. When Obi-Wan finally stepped over the threshold and into the spacious hall, it felt like he had entered another world plucked straight out of a fairy tale. He had never stepped foot on planets like Felucia, Scarif or Kashyyyk but he imagined this was what the famous jungles there would be like, though perhaps without all the fountains and artificial waterfalls. The moist air was rich with the smell of fertile soil and a hundred fragrant flowers, while the soft sound of rustling leaves and gurgling brooks was enough to calm even the most agitated of all minds. 

Obi-Wan inhaled deeply as he followed a narrow, winding path through the thick foliage of exotic trees and bushes to his favorite meditation spot and allowed the peaceful atmosphere of the room to seep into him. This place vibrated with so much life that even somebody like Obi-Wan who was almost blind to the Living Force could not miss it. It was simply magical.

Why could Bruck never taunt him in here? Here he might be able to keep his cool and simply shrug off his insults... and Bruck knew it.

With a sigh, Obi-Wan finally reached his favorite small meadow with its little waterfall and peaceful pool of water. To his relief, the place was still unoccupied. He settled down on the grassy ground at the base of the massive, gnarled aphor tree that ruled over the area like a wizened old king, with its thick branches reaching out over the whole clearing and casting it in dancing shadows. The sound of rustling leaves and swaying branches mixed with the quiet murmur of the waterfall and for the first time that day Obi-Wan felt something resembling peace. 

Perhaps his punishment was a blessing in disguise. 

He leaned back against the rough bark, closed his eyes and allowed himself to simply be, to let the soothing currents of the Force carry away the last remnants of all his anger, fear and frustration until only peace was left. 

Obi-Wan sat there under the tree and meditated for what felt like an eternity when he suddenly became aware of another being in the Force. The being's presence was muted, partly hidden by sophisticated mental shields, but still reminded Obi-Wan of a cool pool of clear water, ancient, calm and seemingly bottomless in its power. It was a presence Obi-Wan would recognize anywhere. 

Startled, he opened his eyes and found himself looking straight at Master Yoda sitting cross-legged and with closed eyes on the grassy ground right in front of him, apparently deep in meditation himself. Obi-Wan blinked.

Huh? Had he really been immersed that deeply in his meditation that he hadn't even noticed the approach of the Grand Master? And what was Master Yoda doing here of all places? This was not one of his usual meditation spots. How long had he been sitting here, anyway? 

With alarm Obi-Wan realized that he had completely lost track of time and that he might even be late for the tournament. He frantically fumbled for his comm link to check the time, but was interrupted by Master Yoda's gravely voice.

"Worry, you need not, young one. Plenty of time, there still is, before the start of the tournament." 

A quick peek at the chrono of his comm link confirmed Master Yoda's words, allowing Obi-Wan to relax again. He had meditated more than an hour but still had more than half an hour left before he had to show up in the Grand Tournament Hall. He could run through a few basic katas to warm up and would still have time to spare. 

When he looked up again, Master Yoda had opened one of his large, golden eyes and eyed him curiously. His pointy ears twitched. 

Obi-Wan felt a little bit sheepish.

"I am sorry if I have interrupted your meditation, Master Yoda. It was not my intention to disturb you."

Master Yoda chuckled and opened both eyes to properly look at him.

"Disturbed me, you have not. Come here to meditate, I did not. But disturb your meditations, I did not wish to, so decide to join you, I did." A mischievous glint appeared in the ancient Master's eyes. "Unusual, it is, for an Initiate to meditate before the tournament. Always gather in the junior dojos, the young ones do, to train until the very last second. Congratulate you, I have to, on your wisdom to meditate instead. But perhaps not so voluntary, your meditation was, hmm?" Obi-Wan's ears burned and he ducked his head in shame. Yoda only chuckled. "Another fight with Bruck, you had?"

"Yes, Master," he admitted. And wasn't that a sad thought, that people didn't even have to guess why he was being punished? 

"Hmm, then perhaps the Will of the Force, your punishment was. Let go of your anger, and found peace, you have?"

Obi-Wan blinked in surprise at the lack of chastisement.

"Yes, Master." 

He had found his peace, at least for now. What would happen when he ran into Bruck again was an entirely different matter.

However, Master Yoda seemed to be satisfied.

"Good. Help you in the tournament, it will, more than some last minute training. Not let your emotions get the better of you and fight with the Force as your ally, you shall, and fail, you will not."

Obi-Wan felt his hopes rise. 

Maybe, just maybe...

"Master? Have you sensed something?"

The ancient Grand Master's ears twitched in amusement and his eyes twinkled.

"Always in motion, the future is. Be sure, one can never be, but sensed a different path for you, I have, than a life spent in the Service Corps."

Obi-Wan held his breath. Could it be...?

Master Yoda chuckled.

"Forget to breathe, you should not. Unhealthy, it is. Now go and warm up, you shall, or risk cramping muscles, you will." Master Yoda made shooing motions with his small hands, prompting Obi-Wan to scramble to his feet. He grinned and bowed in farewell.

"Yes, Master." He turned to leave the clearing but paused. Master Yoda hadn't outright told him that he had been looking for Obi-Wan, but it had pretty much been implied. "Master? You didn't say why you came looking for me in the first place."

Master Yoda had already closed his eyes again and didn't bother to open them, but his ears perked up.

"Looking for you, I was not. Ask the Force for advice, I did, and guide me here, it did. Though, remember this meditation spot, I shall. Nice place, it is." Master Yoda sounded quite pleased with himself. 

"Um..." What was Obi-Wan supposed to say to that? That answer did not make the slightest bit of sense, but then Yoda loved to be cryptic once in a while. Finally Obi-Wan settled on, "Yes, Master." In cases of doubt that was usually the safest reply. "May the Force with you."

"And with you, Obi-Wan."

Shaking his head Obi-Wan left to warm up for the tournament, but unlike before there was now a spring in his steps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote most of the second part of this chapter while listening to 'Carry me' by Eurielle and 'Cloudmaker' by Two steps from hell. I ended up being in an almost meditative state myself and as a result my descriptions have become a little bit more poetic than usual. I hope you enjoyed them.


	4. Harsh Awakening

_The room was packed with Jedi and even Qui-Gon with his considerable height and strength had problems forging a path through the crowd._

_What was it with tournament days? Most of the people here weren't even looking for an apprentice! By now he almost missed being stuck on that backwater planet he had just returned from. At least there he had had room to actually move!_

_A gap opened in front of him and Qui-Gon exploited it ruthlessly, shoving past two Twi’lek Knights chatting excitedly about something and finally coming to a halt next to Tahl, who, of course, had managed to snag one of the best places right at the front with an excellent view of the dueling rings below. Tahl's gaze snapped to his face and her beautiful dark features lit up with joy as she recognized him._

_"Qui-Gon! It was about time. Where have you been? The tournament is almost over!"_

_Qui-Gon caught his breath and straightened his rumpled clothes._

_"I ran into an unexpected problem and was delayed on ... whatever that planet is called. Honestly, you don't want to know. What did I miss?"_

_Tahl rolled her eyes good-naturedly at him._

_"Uh huh... What did you do this time? Did you follow the 'Will of the Force' straight into a gundark nest?"_

_A pirate hide-out actually, but he was not stupid enough to tell his old childhood friend that just yet. Instead he waved her off._

_"It was nothing. Now, the tournament?"_

_Tahl huffed, clearly unsatisfied with his lack of an answer, but she relented._

_"You have come just in time for the finals. And you won't believe it, Xanatos is still in the tournament!"_

_Qui-Gon grinned._

_Of course he was. Xanatos' talent was extraordinary and Qui-Gon wouldn't be surprised if the eleven-year-old would leave the ring as the tournament winner today._

_The next match was announced and the two of them fell silent as they watched the next two Senior Initiates ignite their lightsabers and begin their duel. The two human boys were good duelists and their grasp of Shii-Cho was solid, though one of them attacked with a certain desperation to his movements that Qui-Gon had come to recognize as the fear of an Initiate who was about to age out. His fear to fail made the boy overly aggressive and reckless. Unsurprisingly, he lost. He left the dueling ring with hunched shoulders and his head bowed, knowing that he had likely squandered his chance to escape a life in the Service Corps. Qui-Gon could sympathize, but not everybody was meant to become a Knight. The Jedi Order also needed medics, researchers, teachers and farmers. It was a lesser calling, true, but it was not worthless._

_Finally Xanatos entered the ring and Qui-Gon involuntarily leaned forward over the railing to get a better look. He hadn't seen the boy in months and he was sure that he had grown several centimeters during that time. The little boy he had once brought to the Temple as a freshly-minted Knight was growing up fast and Qui-Gon couldn't suppress a feeling of almost fatherly pride at the sight. Xanatos was still shorter than his opponent, a burly Twi'lek, but as the duel unfolded it became clear that Xanatos had the upper hand. His saber forms were elegant and precise, his footwork was quick and flawless and he anticipated every move his opponent made. Xanatos was by far the better swordsman and, if the cocky grin on his face was any indication, he knew it._

_What a brat!_

_Another few blows were exchanged and then Xanatos scored a hit on his opponent's chest, winning him the duel. The room erupted in cheers and applause, and Qui-Gon cheered louder than everybody else. His eyes found Xanatos' across the room and he beamed down at the boy whom he would ask to become his Padawan as soon as the tournament was over. Xanatos' answering smile was radiant._

_They would be great together._

_An alarm bell went off somewhere._

Qui-Gon woke up with a jolt, his face suspiciously wet. The insistent, rather unpleasant, ringing sound remained. Qui-Gon fumbled blindly for the alarm until the ringing finally stopped. He wiped away the moisture on his cheeks and for a moment he honestly considered to not get up.

He could simply turn over, go back to sleep and then be very apologetic about the fact that he had overslept and missed the tournament. He had gone to bed only three hours ago, thanks to all the reports he had to write - or rather edit, nobody could blame him if he missed his alarm going off... Yes, that was a good plan... Yoda would _so_ let him get away with claiming that he had not heard his alarm going off and slept the whole day... Yeah... If he failed to show up right on time, the pesky troll would likely use his lightsaber to personally cut down the door to Qui-Gon's apartment and drag him out by his hair, kicking and screaming if necessary. 

With a sigh Qui-Gon forced himself to get out of bed. His naked feet had barely touched the cold floor when another annoying ringing noise went off somewhere. It took his exhausted, sleep-addled brain a few moments to place the sound.

The doorbell.

A fast sequence of ringing noises.

Somehow his visitor managed to make the doorbell sound impatient and disapproving.

Even more ringing.

Groaning, Qui-Gon stood up and dragged his reluctant feet out of his dark bedroom, through the living room and towards the front door.

The ringing sound continued.

That had to be Tahl, only she was that obstinate. 

"Yes, yes, I am coming," he shouted and slammed his hand down on the door pad to open the door. "For Force's sake Tahl, stop torturing my ears or I swear -"

The door swished open and Qui-Gon cut himself off in surprise. In front of him did not stand his old friend, but his old Master. Jedi Master Yan Dooku took one look at him and the disapproving look on his regal face turned into a disgusted frown.

"Force, Qui-Gon, you look like a disheveled street cur."

Qui-Gon suppressed a sigh.

"Good morning, to you too, Master."

Without waiting for an invitation, Dooku swept past him into his living room and gave it a critical once over. If his pursed lips were any indication, then the dusty room filled with mostly dead plants and a cloak lying abandoned on the floor did not gain his approval.

Qui-Gon couldn't care less. However, he could still try to be polite - sort off.

"What can I do for you at this early hour, oh my Master?"

Dooku stopped his inspection of Qui-Gon's living quarters and raised one of his elegant eyebrows in a way that clearly communicated his disappointed disbelief at that question. The gesture reminded Qui-Gon uncannily of his Padawan days.

"Your definition of 'early' is as always astonishing, Qui-Gon. It is almost ninth hour. As for what you can do for me, you can get dressed and be ready to leave with me for the tournament within the next ten minutes."

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath.

He would refrain from murdering his old Master, even if he deserved it. Force, that man could be even worse than Yoda sometimes.

His eyes snapped open again and he glared at his Master.

"And why exactly do you think that I need an escort to find my way down to the Grand Tournament Hall?"

Dooku didn't miss a beat.

"Possibly because you have clearly 'forgotten' to set your alarm and 'accidentally' slept in?" 

"I didn't sleep in and the tournament doesn't start for another half an hour!"

"You mean twenty minutes, Qui-Gon. Now stop complaining and get dressed, or are you telling me that this," Dooku gestured at Qui-Gon's well-worn, faded sleep clothes," is the attire you intend to wear for the occasion?"

Qui-Gon's eyes narrowed at the challenge in Dooku's tone.

"Perhaps that is indeed my intention. You know, the casual vintage look is actually considered to be the latest fashion in noble circles at the moment."

Dooku's voice was dry as dust as he replied,

"Oh? Well, in that case, let's go. I am sure that the hundreds of Jedi who are about to attend the tournament to evaluate the Initiates and, you know, _gossip_ , will appreciate your 'fashion statement'." Qui-Gon gritted his teeth. Couldn't that man let him win an argument just  _once_? Of course, Dooku was not done with him just yet. "Now, if you are done behaving like a sullen Junior Padawan, then I suggest you move yourself into the fresher and clean up. Thanks to this pointless argument you have now only eight minutes left before I will resort to more drastic measures to get you going."

"And do what?" Qui-Gon snapped back. "Drag me down to the tournament hall at saber point?"

"Hardly," Dooku deadpanned. "But let me remind you that I am not above using my lightsaber to cut down that tangled mess on your head that you call hair and give you a more sophisticated haircut that will also allow you to finish your morning ablutions much faster."

"You mean you will disfigure me so that I match your archaic idea of fashion that clearly is a remnant from the century you grew up in?"

Dooku's lips actually twitched upwards at that.

"Exactly. And now it's only seven minutes."

Knowing better than to try Dooku Qui-Gon conceded defeat with a growl of frustration and hurried into the fresher.

At least a quick glance to his right confirmed that the door to the second, abandoned bedroom was closed, hiding his commandeered ghost writer from Dooku's eyes. The last thing he needed was for his old Master to inquire about the sudden presence of a secretary droid in his quarters. He would have to check on the droids progress with transcribing his reports later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is there to say about this chapter... Master Dooku showed up and simply took over. I have had far too much fun writing this character, so he will play a bigger role in what is to come than orginally planned.


	5. A Strange Feeling

Qui-Gon and Dooku entered the viewing stands of the Grand Tournament Hall exactly fifteen minutes later - with five minutes still to spare. Qui-Gon gave Dooku a pointed look at that which Dooku, of course, ignored.

Just like in his memories, the viewing stands of the enormous hall were filled to the brink with people, ranging from excited Younglings from the crèche to elderly Masters well into their retirement.

They waded into the crowd and Qui-Gon did his best to not react to the curious looks and whispers that followed him. A Padawan would elbow his friend in the ribs and point at him or a young Knight would crane her neck to get a better look... At least most of the older, more dignified Masters had the decency to only give him a glance before returning to their own business. 

Ugh, it seemed like the rumor mill was in full swing again.

Thankfully, his Master expertly steered them towards a quieter corner of the stands, right next to a large column that hid the people standing next to it from most of the room, while still providing a good view of the floor below with its five dueling rings. Somebody had kept a spot open for them. That somebody turned out to be Tahl, accompanied by Master Yoda who was sitting in his hover chair today, floating in the air at chest level, undoubtedly to have a better view of the proceedings in the dueling rings below.

Tahl greeted them with one of her radiant smiles that always made Qui-Gon's heart skip a beat.

"Ah, finally. I see, you have managed to retrieve our errant friend, Master Dooku. And somehow his flowing mane is still attached to his stubborn skull!"

Qui-Gon gave her a glare that only made her grin wider. 

Beside him Dooku snorted in derision.

"Despite my best efforts to the contrary, Master Uvain, I assure you."

Tahl sniggered and Yoda cackled. Qui-Gon only sighed. Thankfully he was saved from having to endure even more torment on the hands of his lineage and his friend, because one of the senior lightsaber instructors stepped into the middle of the hall to officially open the tournament, drawing the attention of the assembled Jedi towards him. The background hum of conversation between the spectators fell almost completely silent only to be replaced by a feeling of anticipation so intense that Qui-Gon could almost feel the hairs on his neck stand up in response. The Force in the room thrummed.

Qui-Gon shuddered. The atmosphere reminded him all too much of Xanatos' last Initiate tournament and made his dream of last night feel all too real. He didn't want to be here and he didn't want to watch all these hopeful Initiates duel to impress prospective Masters. All it did was make him think of his beloved Xanatos, Xanatos who had been his son in all but blood and who was now lost to him, not because he had died but because of something so much worse...

Qui-Gon didn't pay attention as the first five matches were announced and the first ten Senior Initiates took up their positions in their assigned dueling rings. All he could see before his inner eye was Xanatos as a young boy, strolling into the ring with a confident grin on his face.

The characteristic snap-hiss sound of lightsabers being ignited reached Qui-Gon's ears, causing him to close his eyes and inhale deeply.

What was he even doing here? What he needed to do was to run out of this hall, out of the Temple and not stop running until he had left this planet behind and finally managed to outrun his memories... but he couldn't do that. If he left the Temple or just this room now without the Council's and Master Yoda's approval they would likely send somebody after him to drag him back and make him see a mind healer...

No, he had to somehow endure this and stay, at least until the lunch break. He might then get away with leaving for the rest of the preliminaries and returning in the late afternoon for the finals. Every Initiate should have been called into the ring at least once until then. He could claim that he had seen every participant fight once, he didn't need to see them a second and third time just during the preliminaries. There would be no getting out of the finals... but it would be better than nothing, and if he then managed to somehow disappear before the meet and greet right after the tournament, that would be even better.

Qui-Gon consciously released the breath he had been holding and forced himself to open his eyes to look at the ten children below him who were currently swinging their lightsabers at each other. He watched and had to suppress a wince at the worse attempts at Shii-Cho he saw. As always the tournament started with duels between the younger, less experienced children - some would only just have passed their Initiate Trials to become Senior Initiates - and it showed. A young Mon Calamari girl especially stood out for almost falling over her own feet as she tried to advance on her opponent. She stumbled and got hit by her opponent's lightsaber before she could recover her balance. 

Honestly, how had that girl even passed her Initiate Trials? 

A human boy tried to make his attacks look more impressive and forgot his defense as a consequence. He lost too. The crowd didn't care about the lower quality of these early duels, however. Every victory was rewarded by applause and cheers from the stands.

At least the poor quality of the first duels made it easier to watch them. Xanatos had never been this clumsy or careless. Qui-Gon could watch these duels without seeing Xanatos in any of the combatants. He only saw children playing with lightsabers safely set to training mode. But that would change when the older, more experienced Initiates were called up. 

Qui-Gon's gaze wandered towards the large group of Initiates gathered at one end of the hall, waiting for their turn to prove themselves in the dueling ring. Some of them were running through warm up exercises, but most of them were sitting on long benches, chatting with their friends or watching their competition in nervous anticipation. There were well over a hundred of them, perhaps even two hundred, though most looked like they were only about ten or eleven years old. He skimmed over their young, hopeful faces but his gaze did not linger. Whether he wanted it or not, something drew his eyes towards the older Initiates. The group of twelve-year-olds was much smaller, perhaps about thirty or forty children in total, and instinct told him that he would find something there that he should pay attention to. The Force hummed in anticipation of what was to come, urging him to _look_. As if in trance Qui-Gon obeyed. His eyes wandered along the line of children, not sure what he was looking for, but somehow knowing that he would find it.

Then Qui-Gon saw him, and it felt like the world had come crushing down around him, jolting him out of his trance: a tall human boy with pale skin and raven black hair cut relatively short except for the still unadorned learner's braid behind his right ear that marked him as an unclaimed Initiate. Qui-Gon's breath caught in his chest.. 

Xanatos. 

Qui-Gon's heart pounded in his ears.

No, that was impossible!

Black spots began to to appear before his eyes. With a gasp he forced himself to breath and truly _look_ at the boy. That was not Xanatos. This boy's features were heavier, his hair more a dark brown than black and his skin was more tanned, it was nothing like Xanatos' aristocratic pallor. 

He was _not_ Xanatos... just an Initiate like any other who was chatting with his white-haired friend about the tournament. The vice around his chest loosened a little and Qui-Gon could breathe again. Still, he was shocked to his core and quickly averted his gaze. That was when he noticed Tahl smirking at him. Qui-Gon closed his eyes in horror.

"Tahl..."

"What?! I didn't say anything."

"Stop thinking then," he shot back, but she only rolled her eyes at him.

"I don't believe that is physically possible, Qui-Gon. I can't simply shut off my brain." 

Qui-Gon didn't reply. He didn't want to talk about what had just happened. Of course the same couldn't be said for Tahl.

"That are Aalto Melar and Bruck Chun, by the way," she supplied helpfully. 

"Who?" Qui-Gon asked, doing his best to sound like he didn't know what Tahl was talking about.

"The two Initiates you have just been staring at like you were being hypnotized," Tahl shot back immediately.

"I have not been 'staring' at anybody," Qui-Gon lied. "I have been trying to figure out how many Initiates participate in today's tournament so I know how long I am going to be stuck here with you."

"Oh? Are you sure you didn't feel a pull to one of them?"

"Yes!" Qui-Gon hissed. The resemblance to Xanatos was what had caught his attention, nothing else. There had been no pull, no urging from the Force, and if he had imagined feeling anything like that, then that only proved that he was lacking sleep thanks to all those cursed reports for the Council. 

Tahl actually threw her hands up in desperation.

"Oh, for all his holy, Qui-Gon, stop lying to yourself. Both Bruck and Aalto would be a good match for you. Bruck has won the last tournament and Aalto came out third. They are both very talented swordsmen. Plus, Bruck is top of his class in most subjects and they are both very popular with their agemates."

Of course she would know that kind of stuff. She had likely memorized the files of all the Senior Initiates in the Temple in preparation for this tournament and would now recite them back at him, singing the praises of every single child entering the floor. But that wouldn't get her anywhere with Qui-Gon.

"Oh? If they are both so great, then why have they not been chosen yet?" he asked. "They both look like they are close to aging out."

"They have both just turned twelve, they are tall for their age! Besides, perhaps the Force has simply not yet prompted anybody to choose them. Perhaps the Force has been waiting for _you_ to show up!"

"Oh please, such model Initiates are usually picked up by somebody as soon as they turn eleven, perhaps even earlier, or at the very least right after they do so well in a tournament. So what is wrong with them?"

Tahl hesitated.

"Aalto's grades could be better and Bruck was caught copying an essay," she admitted. Qui-Gon snorted and translated that into 'Aalto's grades are abysmal' and 'Bruck is a fraud'. "But grades can improve with extra tutoring by a dedicated Master and children grow out of their childish mistakes," Tahl tried to convince him. "Cut them some slack, Qui-Gon, they are still children and you know how hard the competition between Senior Initiates is."

Dooku snorted and retorted in Qui-Gon's stead,

"That sounds to me more like they are both problem children, and the last thing Qui-Gon needs is a problem child as his apprentice. He had enough of that with Xanatos, don't you think? Qui-Gon needs a talented and disciplined apprentice who keeps him out of trouble and not gets him into even more messes."

"I don't need an apprentice at all," Qui-Gon reminded them, keeping his eyes on the dueling ten-year-olds below them and as far away from the Xanatos-lookalike and his friend as possible.

Dooku abandoned his own survey of the Initiates to narrow steely eyes at Qui-Gon.

"Yes, you do, Qui-Gon. You are a wreck, a shadow of the man you used to be. The Qui-Gon Jinn I knew would never have let that horrible collection of weeds in his quarters die from neglect. He would have bullied his old Master or one of his friends into taking care of these 'precious embodiments of the Living Force' while he was on a mission. But this new Qui-Gon Jinn is too busy running from his painful memories and wallowing in his self-pity to care about anything or anybody anymore. You need somebody in your life who reminds you that there is more to life than completing missions."

"I am not running from anything!" Qui-Gon lied. "I have merely decided to focus more on my duties. You have spent years complaining about my lack of discipline, Master. Shouldn't you be happier than anybody else about this?"

Dooku's face was grim as he replied,

"Focusing on your duty and stop living are two very different things, Qui-Gon."

Qui-Gon gritted his teeth but was thankfully saved from having to come up with an answer to that by Master Yoda chiming in.

"Stop arguing, you will. Too stubborn to listen, Qui-Gon is, anyway. Guide him to the right Initiate, the Force will, if the opportunity to listen to it, you give him."

And just like that Qui-Gon's gratitude vanished as quickly as it had come. Why couldn't any of them accept that he didn't want a Padawan? And the Force would not guide him to anything or anyone!

At least Tahl and Dooku stopped harassing him after that and kept quiet, leaving Qui-Gon to his thoughts. Though, the calculating expression on Tahl's face as she kept looking from Qui-Gon to the two boys and back filled Qui-Gon with a deep sensation of dread. Dooku exchanged a few eloquent looks with Master Yoda, giving Qui-Gon the distinct feeling that they were having a silent conversation about him, before his old Master returned to scrutinizing the Initiates with a new intensity to his gaze. 

Qui-Gon only stared down at the arena without really seeing anything. He refused to look in the direction of the waiting twelve-year-olds again, no matter how often his eyes seemed to wander in that direction of their own volition and no matter how much the Force churned around him in agitation. He was only tired and the Force felt turbulent because of all the strong emotions raging through the crowd in the hall. 

Then the Xanatos-lookalike and his white-haired friend were finally called into the arena, together with a couple of other twelve-year-olds, and Qui-Gon closed his eyes, concentrating on the feeling of gnawing hunger in his stomach to block out any other sensations. That was it. He shouldn't have skipped morning meal. The lightheaded feeling was simply a symptom of his hunger and nothing else. 

He made the mistake of glancing at Master Yoda and was rewarded with a knowing, satisfed smile that made him immediately close his eyes again.

It was going to be a long day...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much happening in this chapter, I am afraid. The next chapter will finally feature the duel we have all been waiting for: Obi-Wan vs Bruck - Who will win? What will happen to the loser? You will see in the next chapter


	6. Fateful Duel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be advised, I don't know anything about actual swordsplay so my description of Obi-Wan's duel with Bruck might not be very realistic. I read a few other descriptions of lightsaber fights and simply tried to write something similar.

Obi-Wan struggled to find his center and release his nervousness into the Force. What had been so easy this morning in the Room of a Thousand Fountains was much more difficult now in the late afternoon, as he sat alone on one of the long, empty benches in the Grand Tournament Hall and waited for the short break to be over and for his next match in the finals to be announced. 

The large hall buzzed with excitement and the Force churned with a mixture of turbulent emotions, making it difficult for Obi-Wan to separate his own emotions from those of the crowd. He tightened his mental shields.

For better or worse it was almost over.

There were only sixteen Initiates left in the tournament by now. 

Sixteen Initiates. 

Four rounds left to go before the winner would be announced.

Four duels left to win...

The tournament had gone well for Obi-Wan so far. He had lost his very first duel against Aalto, true, but he had managed to win his other two bouts in the preliminaries and secured himself a place in the finals. Two more victories and he had made it to the last sixteen, which was farther than he had ever come in a tournament before. He usually got himself kicked out during the first or second round of the finals if he made it to the finals at all. 

But he was at the top of his game today. He could make it. Perhaps... if he was lucky.

He took a look around to size up his remaining competition. Somehow they all looked smaller than usual as they sat alone on their benches, spread out through the almost completely abandoned waiting area and waiting for their names to be called. He was confident that he could beat Siri and Garen and figured that he had at least a chance against most of the others, but Aalto, To'lan and Bruck would be a real problem. He hadn't won a duel against any of them in years. 

But today was his day, he could feel it in his bones. The Force had been humming happily at him almost since the moment the tournament had started. Something good was meant to happen today, Obi-Wan just _knew_ it. Perhaps his so far rather unfocused and useless talents in the Unifying Force were finally showing signs of sharpening into something. 

He just had to stay calm and listen to the Force and everything would be as it was meant to be. The Force whispered its agreement. Obi-Wan allowed himself to relax. 

He could do this!

A bell chimed somewhere, drawing the attention of everyone towards Master Drallig standing in the middle of the floor as he announced the pairings for the next round. Obi-Wan held his breath. 

He could do this!

" - Aalto Melar and Garen Muln, ring 1 -," Obi-Wan grimaced in sympathy. Garen was as good as dead and considering Garen's suddenly pale face, the other boy knew it, too. Still, as Garen walked into his assigned dueling ring the expression on his face was determined and there was no hesitation in his steps. " - Obi-Wan Kenobi and Bruck Chun, ring 2 -" Obi-Wan's heart stopped. 

Force, no! Why of all the people did it have to be Bruck?! 

He watched with numb detachment as Bruck rose from his seat with a broad grin on his face and sauntered towards ring 2, his every movement screaming confidence in his imminent victory. Bruck didn't look like he was about to duel somebody but more like he had been granted a seat on the Council. 

Obi-Wan quickly pulled himself together and slowly got to his feet, too. He didn't listen to the other pairings being called out. A part of him hoped that this was a mistake, but a quick look at the holo display flashing his and Bruck's name above ring 2 told him otherwise. 

Bruck's smirk grew even wider as Obi-Wan took up his position opposite him in the large circle that was ring 2.

"Don't you want to give up now and preserve at least some of your dignity, Oafy-Wan?" Bruck taunted in a low voice, making sure that nobody else could here him.

Obi-Wan gritted his teeth and fell into a more aggressive version of the classic Shii-Cho opening stance, igniting his blue lightsaber as he did so.

"No, how about you?" he hissed back, anger already curling in his stomach like a poisonous snake. 

Bruck cackled in delight, sounding like a demon straight from Obi-Wan's own personal hell.

"Oh, Oafy-Wan," Bruck's patronizing tone somehow managed to make Obi-Wan feel like a stupid child being lectured, "I am going to trounce you so thoroughly, you will beg for reassignment to the AgriCorps before the day is over. This is going to be the most fun I have had in _ages_ , even more than when I ,um, 'improved' your last science project."

Obi-Wan's grip around his lightsaber tightened until his knuckles turned white and his arms trembled. He had suspected Bruck had had something to do with that particularly embarrassing incident but had never been able to prove it. 

Bruck ignited his yellow lightsaber with a dramatic flourish and settled into his own opening stance, his weight balanced on the balls of his feet, ready to pounce on his prey. He raised his eyebrows at Obi-Wan.

"Nothing to say to that, _Oafy-Wan_?" he taunted.

Obi-Wan didn't answer. He refused to. Instead he recalled Master Yoda's advice: ' _Not let your emotions get the better of you and fight with the Force as your ally, you shall, and fail, you will not_.' Master Yoda still believed in him even when almost everybody else had given up on him as a lost cause. 

He could do this!

It was perhaps the most difficult thing Obi-Wan had ever done in his entire life but this time he didn't allow Bruck to bait him. Instead he closed his eyes, breathed in, counted to five, and breathed out, remembering the peace he had felt earlier that day in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. 

He could do this.

He focused on the smell of ozone that saturated the air in the arena after a day of plasma blades clashing against each other. Bruck said something else but Obi-Wan tuned him out. He pictured himself standing outside right after a thunderstorm had cleansed the Coruscanti air of all its dirt. He inhaled the fresh, clean air and slowly exhaled it again, letting it wash away his anger and his fear. His lightsaber hummed steadily in his hands and everything else fell away as his entire being focused on the task ahead.

_He could do this!_

Master Drallig's enhanced voice boomed loudly over the chattering crowd of spectators.

"Ready!"

Obi-Wan's muscles tensed. 

"Fight!"

Obi-Wan's eyes snapped open and Bruck charged at him with a battle cry. Bruck's yellow lightsaber hissed through the air as he attacked with a powerful overhead strike, forcing Obi-Wan to quickly shift to the defensive and bring his own blade up in a parry. Yellow plasma clashed against blue, cracking and hissing, and the stench of ozone intensified as Bruck continued to press down on Obi-Wan's lightsaber with all his strength, his face contorted into a snarl. 

Obi-Wan dug in his heels and refused to budge, pressing against Bruck's blade with everything he got. But Bruck was taller and stronger than Obi-Wan, and his arms soon started to tremble under the strain. They struggled against each other for a few moments before Obi-Wan disengaged with a grunt and sidestepped Bruck, trying to strike at Bruck's unprotected side as he did so. Bruck almost overbalanced and barely managed to block Obi-Wan's attack. Bruck growled in frustration and reluctantly retreated a step to regroup. Recognizing the opening Obi-Wan pressed his advantage by attacking Bruck with a flurry of fast thrusts that Bruck struggled to parry. With victory tantalizingly close Obi-Wan intensified his barrage of relentless attacks, slowly driving Bruck back step by step towards the edge of the ring. 

If he could just make Bruck step over the line that marked the edge the arena, this would be over quickly. 

Unfortunately, Bruck recovered in time and turned the tables on Obi-Wan with a lightning fast counterattack that went straight past Obi-Wan's defenses. Obi-Wan desperately tried to catch the blade with his own but missed by a hair's breadth. Bruck's blade hummed triumphantly as it flew towards Obi-Wan's unprotected neck to end this bout once and for all. 

Obi-Wan ducked on instinct, throwing himself to the side and landing hard on the thin training mat. Ignoring his protesting body, he used his momentum to roll across the mat and give himself a chance to get up again before Bruck could finish him off. Adrenaline pumped through Obi-Wan's veins as he smelled the acrid stench of burned hair that told him exactly how close he had come to defeat. He barely managed to push himself off the ground before a shrill warning from the Force made him blindly bring up his blade in a sloppy overhead block to try and fend off Bruck's next attack. 

It was not perfect, but it was enough. Bruck's lightsaber battered against Obi-Wan's with enough force to send a jolt through Obi-Wan's arms and make him grit his teeth. Refusing to give Obi-Wan a chance to recover and regain his balance, Bruck immediately doubled down on his attack with a sequence of fast swipes and thrusts that tested Obi-Wan's defenses to their limits and beyond. 

Block, parry, retreat, evade. Obi-Wan didn't even have time to think as he stumbled backwards in a desperate attempt to get some breathing room and regroup. He simply allowed his instincts to take over and the Force to guide his movements to keep Bruck from scoring a hit - and somehow it worked. 

It also obviously frustrated Bruck to no end. Obi-Wan could almost hear Bruck's thoughts: How dare Obi-Wan refuse Bruck his deserved victory?

Bruck continued to batter his lightsaber against Obi-Wan's, his attacks becoming more brutal but also sloppier as his frustration and fury increased with every failed attack. It allowed Obi-Wan to regain his footing and to turn his desperate stumbling into a more calculated retreat that led the both of them around the fighting ring in a wide circle as Bruck tried - and failed - to beat Obi-Wan into submission. 

Obi-Wan let himself fall back another few steps as he parried yet another swipe at his legs and waited for his opportunity. 

Now!

Bruck aimed a thrust at Obi-Wan's chest but miscalculated and overreached ever so slightly. It was not a big mistake, but it was enough.  

Trusting the urging from the Force, Obi-Wan side-stepped Bruck's attack instead of trying to parry it and moved in to counter. His own blade hummed and crackled as it slashed through the air, straight at Bruck's unprotected lower body - and scored a perfect hit.

For a second Bruck and Obi-Wan both froze to stare in disbelief at the long, black scorch mark tarnishing Bruck's sweat-soaked, white training tunics. Then the room erupted into deafening cheers and applause, and the spell broke. Still not really able to believe what just had happened Obi-Wan's eyes snapped upwards toward where the small monitoring that acted as referee hovered above their heads and towards the holo display that now displayed his name in green, while Bruck's had turned red. 

He had won! He had _actually won!_

Obi-Wan broke into a grin so wide he feared his face might split in two. He felt so light he was sure that if he jumped from one of the Temple towers right now, he would simply float away. It was intoxicating.

He had won! He had actually beaten _Bruck_!

"You cheated! You _son of a Hutt_ cheated! You cannot beat me, _that's simply impossible_!" Bruck screamed at the top of his voice, forcing Obi-Wan to turn his attention back towards his defeated opponent, whose already reddened face had turned the color of an overripe muja fruit. 

Obi-Wan smirked back at him.

"And yet I just beat you fair and square, Bruck. Perhaps you are simply not as great as you believe."

To his satisfaction Bruck was almost frothing at the mouth now. The other boy took a step towards Obi-Wan, his still ignited lightsaber raised in a threatening gesture. For a moment Obi-Wan wondered whether Bruck would really have the galls to actually attack him with a lightsaber in front of half the Jedi Order, however Master Drallig intervened before Bruck could do anything more than hiss at him.

"Enough! Kenobi wins, Chun loses, and I suggest you accept that, Initiate Chun." The warning in the saber instructor’s voice was tangible and it was enough to snap Bruck out of his funk. The boy breathed heavily, but he turned off his lightsaber and returned it to his belt. 

"I apologize, Master Drallig." He gave Obi-Wan the least sincere, creepiest smile Obi-Wan had ever seen before bowing formally. "Congratulations to your victory, Obi-Wan, you fought well." It sounded like uttering those words physically hurt Bruck. Then he turned on his heels and for the second time that day stormed away from Obi-Wan with so much fury in his steps it clung to him like a dark thundercloud.

But Obi-Wan couldn't care less about Bruck at the moment.

He had won! 

And perhaps he had won more than just an important fight, perhaps he had won the right to become a Padawan. 

"Kenobi, get out of the ring. I need it for the next bout." Master Drallig's annoyed voice brought him back to reality.

Obi-Wan struggled to stop grinning, but it was no use, he simply couldn't stop even if his life depended on it. His face was going to be stuck like this forever. Still, he bowed politely to the lightsaber instructor.

"Of course, Master Drallig."

He powered down his own 'saber and almost danced back towards the waiting area, the cheers of the crowd still ringing in his ears.  

And if for nothing else, the looks of utter disbelief thrown his way by his remaining competitors as he sat down on his bench had so been worth it. When this round was over there would only be eight of them left and Obi-Wan was one of them. He gave them his most brilliant smile and then looked up to the viewing stands where Master Yoda was floating in his hover chair. Their gazes locked and despite the distance Obi-Wan was sure that Master Yoda smiled back at him.

It was no longer important whether he won the tournament, he had proven that he could beat Bruck Chun, winner of the last tournament and arguably the best lightsaber fighter of all the Senior Initiates, without losing his temper nor by cheating, but by keeping a cool head and relying on the Force and his skills. He had proven to himself and to everyone else that he could be a Knight. That was worth more than any tournament title.

 

***

 

Bruck stormed into the adjourning dressing room and ripped off his training clothes with such force that the fabric actually ripped. With an unrestrained scream of fury he grabbed the ruined tunic and hurled it into the laundry cute. 

The other three losers stared at him in astonishment, their thoughts written clearly on their faces: 

What was he doing here? He was Bruck Chun, tournament champion and ruler of the Initiate dojos. He was supposed to _win_ this tournament and not get kicked out by _Oafy-Wan_ of all people!

Bruck felt his face burn with new waves of fury and humiliation. Needing to unleash these emotions on somebody or something, he kicked the laundry chute with all his strength and was rewarded by a heavy thud and pure agony shooting through his foot.

"Get out!" he yelled at the other three boys, not caring whether he appeared completely unhinged to them. They quickly scrambled for the second door and vanished into the corridor behind it.

At least these people still knew their place!

Breathing heavily Bruck focused on the throbbing pain in his right foot to stop himself from hitting the bare wall with his fists.

Why? Why did that worthless piece of trash always have to ruin things for him? So what if he had taken the loser's essay last year? Oafy-Wan was to weak to become a Knight, anyway, so who cared? But no, the sneak had had to tattle and give Bruck a black mark on his record, and now no Master or Knight would touch him because of it! It simply was not fair! 

But that was obviously not enough for Oafy-Wan, no he had to publicly humiliate Bruck in front of the entire Order and ruin his chances of finding a Master even more!

Oh, Oafy-Wan was going to  _pay_  for this!!!

Bruck screamed some more and kicked somebody's sports bag across the room for good measure. It was not good enough. He needed to plant his fists into Oafy-Wan's ugly face until not even his Crèche Master would be able to recognize him anymore. 

With effort Bruck reigned in his outrage, undressed and headed for the nearest shower cubicle. He needed to think. He needed to find a way to get that bastard expelled from the Order, he needed a plan.

It would be difficult to achieve, but thankfully Bruck knew exactly what buttons to push to get that bastard into trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will likely take a little while longer for me to write because I want to first (finally) finish the next chapter for my other fic. But if you are lucky, I am still stuck with the other story.
> 
> And because I am an evil person this chapter ends on a sort of cliffhanger :)


	7. Meet and Greet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writer's block has struck again and I have no idea how to continue my other fic, so I am back to writing this one. Bad for me, but lucky for you.

"Oh for Force's sake, Qui-Gon, wipe that scowl off your face and stop treating the children like they are nothing but air," Tahl hissed under her breath. "You could at least try to be polite!" She narrowed her stunning gold-green striped eyes at him but for once Qui-Gon ignored her and instead stared straight ahead, his gaze fixed safely on a point well above the heads of the two eager Senior Initiates who were currently engaged in conversation with Yoda and Dooku.

There was a curiously shaped stain decorating the wall. Had somebody thrown his mug of caf against the refectory wall in a fit of rage? Curious... This little mystery was definitely more interesting than talking to these too eager, wide-eyed children who somehow thought themselves worthy of walking the path of the Knights. They were throwing hopeful looks towards him and Tahl every other second, even while they were talking to two other Masters.

Qui-Gon suppressed a snort.

Really now?

The human girl was far too blunt, she would be a lousy diplomat, and her friend hadn't even made it into the finals of today's tournament. If they really thought that they would be able to impress him enough that he would choose one of them as his Padawan, then they were utterly delusional. Not even Tahl showed any interest in them, and Tahl was much more forgiving when it came to a Jedi's flaws than Qui-Gon.

Force, how long until this horrible meet and greet would finally be over? He peered at the chrono on the wall and barely managed to refrain from groaning. Another hour. This torture would last for another hour! 

Yoda and Dooku (finally!) extracted themselves from the conversation and their little group of four moved on towards the next gaggle of children, as they had done since the beginning of this tiresome event. Yoda led the way in his hover chair, followed by a scowling Qui-Gon, who was flanked by Dooku and Tahl like he was some kind of criminal being escorted to his execution - a comparison that felt rather accurate.

Qui-Gon honestly didn't know what they were trying to achieve with this farce. Did they hope that he would look at one of the Initiates, change his mind and scream 'That's my new Padawan!'

Ridiculous!

As they walked through the crowd, Qui-Gon threw a longing look towards the buffet, his empty stomach growling accusingly at him in reply. The sight was partly blocked by people and especially one lonely, red-haired Initiate seemed to always stand exactly in his line of sight whenever he looked that way, but Qui-Gon could still discern the steam wafting tantalizingly from the undoubtedly delicious food that was offered there. He was starving and his gaze was drawn towards this area of the large eating hall, as if compelled by some kind of magnetic force. His feet changed direction almost of their own volition, guiding him towards where he was supposed to be and -

He was stopped by a wrinkled hand that gripped him by the shoulder and brought him back to reality and on course.

"We are not done yet, Qui-Gon. First you meet the Initiates, then you can eat." Dooku's voice brooked no argument as he pointed to their destination, a larger group of older boys. "That way!"

Qui-Gon sighed but fell back into step beside his old Master as Tahl had miraculously decided to abandon her post on his other side in favor of hurrying ahead.

"I am hungry and sick of being paraded around like some kind of prizewinning bantha, Yan!"

"Oh, you are a bantha, just not a prizewinning one," Dooku deadpanned. "Now stop complaining and actually talk to the Initiates this time or I will have a chat with my fellow Councilors about giving you even more homework."

Qui-Gon stumbled as realization struck him. He quickly regained his balance and stared incredulously at his former Master.

"It was your idea! _You_ set them up to this charade of forcing me to write reports!"

Dooku's lips twitched upward.

"Well, I _was_ taught by Yoda, Padawan-mine. What did you expect? That I would fight fair?" Then he unceremoniously shoved Qui-Gon forward in a very direct, un-Dooku-like maneuver. In front of them, Tahl stepped to the side at exactly the right moment so Qui-Gon ended up taking her place and just like that, Qui-Gon stood in front of two human boys, caged in by Tahl on one side, the turned back of some Wookiee Knight on his other side and Dooku at his back.

Qui-Gon was trapped.

He would kill the lot of them, starting with his former Master.

Two young faces looked up at him and Qui-Gon quickly plastered a bland smile on his face. Blast it! He was standing right in front of Bruck Chun and Aalto Melar - with no way out. Behind him, Dooku also seemed to recognize the two Initiates because he sighed in resignation, while the smile on Tahl's face was almost unbearably smug as she began chatting with another boy.

Change in plans: He would kill Tahl first, then his Master. Yoda would be last. Where had the troll vanished to anyway?

The two human boys bowed their heads towards him in polite greeting, forcing Qui-Gon to focus his attention on them.

"Master Jinn," they intoned formally.

Damn it, now he had to say something.

He forced himself to address the Xanatos-lookalike, Aalto Melar, first. Better to get that encounter over with as fast as possible.

"Congratulations, Initiate Melar, to your success in winning the tournament. From what I have seen, it was well-earned." Qui-Gon hadn't seen much, as he had spent most of the tournament, and especially any duels involving this particular boy, staring at nothing or the holographic ranking list, but he had picked up enough from the conversations around him to know that what he had just said was the truth. He even managed to look the boy in the eyes as he said the words.

Aalto Melar was _not_ Xanatos. Up close he didn't even look that much like Qui-Gon's former Padawan, and yet... his confident demeanor, his obvious love for lightsaber combat...

Qui-Gon's jaw involuntarily tightened, but despite the Master's lack of enthusiasm, the boy's chest swelled with pride at the compliment.

"Thank you, Master Jinn. I have worked hard to hone my skills and hope to soon be able to put them to good use outside of the dojos."

The expression on the boy's face was eager as he gazed up at Qui-Gon, his dark eyes full of expectation and confidence. Qui-Gon could practically hear the boy's train of thought: He had won the tournament, so he deserved to become a Knight, no matter his other failures. Surely, Qui-Gon would consider him as a prospective Padawan, because lightsaber skills were all that truly mattered, right?

Qui-Gon had to bite back a sudden wave of anger at the boy's arrogance and his voice was hard as he replied,

"Jedi are keepers of peace, Initiate Melar. We only draw our weapons as a last resort and we _never_ crave combat and bloodshed. Too much eagerness for battle can easily lead to the Dark Side. You would do well to remember that and focus more on other Jedi disciplines."

Tahl subtly dug the heel of her boot into Qui-Gon's toes, sending pain shooting through Qui-Gon's foot. But he didn't so much as wince at the sudden flare of agony. He even welcomed it.

He should have remembered that lesson himself and curbed Xanatos' eagerness for battle. But he hadn't. Instead he had been proud of his lightsaber skills and created a monster that cared only about besting and destroying his opponents without a thought for the lives that were lost as a consequence.

The boy's face reddened at the rebuke and the hopeful light in his eyes died.

"I didn't mean -, That isn't... Yes, Master Jinn." Melar's stammering was followed by a short, awkward silence. "If you would excuse me, Master Jinn," the boy then mumbled and quickly scurried away.

Satisfied that he had gotten his point across, Qui-Gon watched him leave without remorse, even if the renewed pressure on his toes from Tahl's boot promised retribution for his rude behavior later.

Qui-Gon only pulled his foot out from under Tahl's footwear and turned his attention towards the other Initiate, Bruck Chun. The white-haired human had followed the short conversation silently and Qui-Gon saw none of Melar's overconfidence or expectation in Chun's gaze. There was only self-deprecation.

It was a stark contrast to the boy's display of untamed rage during his last bout in the tournament. Not even Qui-Gon had been able to not pay attention to the rather memorable duel between Chun and that other Initiate, Kenobi, where Chun had allowed his frustration and obvious dislike for his opponent to take over, resulting in his inferior opponent being able to beat him. All these negative emotions seemed to be gone now, but Qui-Gon was not stupid. There was obviously a vast well of anger lying hidden beneath the boy's calm facade.

Chun's loss of control might only have been a mishap, caused by the stress of the tournament and the fact that he had been pitched against a boy who, according to Tahl, regularly tormented him. But even if his behavior in the tournament had been uncharacteristic, a similar outburst would be unacceptable in the field. It was time to poke Chun a little bit and find out exactly what kind of darkness he was hiding behind the humble expression on his face. However, before Qui-Gon could say anything, the boy beat him to it.

"You do not have to say it, Master Jinn," he said softly, his expression contrite. "I know I have failed in my duel against Initiate Kenobi." He lowered his eyes in shame. "He tried to make me lose my composure to gain an advantage and I allowed his taunts to get to me. I failed my teachers and myself and deserved to be defeated. It is a weak excuse, I know, but I promise I will learn from my mistake and do better next time."

Qui-Gon's eyebrows shot up to his hairline in surprise. That was... unexpected. He had expected the boy to make excuses, put all the blame on Kenobi and do what all Initiates did: boast of their achievements and explain why he would be the perfect Padawan. However, Chun appeared to be honestly disappointed in himself, though Qui-Gon remained suspicious of so much sudden humility. He narrowed his eyes at the boy.

"Yes, indeed. The first discipline a Jedi has to master is self-control, something in which you have failed miserably today." There was no point in pulling his punches and coddling the boy. He needed to hear the unmitigated truth. "

Chun hung his head in shame.

"Yes, Master Jinn. I will meditate more and work harder to let go of my negative emotions."

Qui-Gon pursed his lips in contemplation as he studied the boy in front of him. He grudgingly had to admit that Chun's remorse seemed to be genuine. Perhaps there was still hope for him. Perhaps he had indeed learned a valuable lesson today and would become a better Jedi because of it. At least the boy appeared to understand his mistake and had come to value humility. It was something most Initiates seemed to be incapable of grasping.

Qui-Gon gave Chun a small, encouraging nod.

"That is a good idea, Initiate Chun. Defeat your anger and you will be stronger for it. The worst enemies a Jedi has are his own weaknesses. Demonstrate that you can rise above your flaws and you might still be chosen as a Padawan by somebody."

The boy smiled back at him in gratitude.

"Thank you, Master Jinn."

They talked some more about how Chun could improve his skills until the large Wookiee Knight to Qui-Gon's right finally moved out of the way and Qui-Gon used to opportunity to excuse himself and escape. Of course his reprieve was short-lived as Dooku somehow managed to materialize next to him within seconds. Qui-Gon threw him a dirty look.

"There! I talked with them. Are you satisfied now?"

Dooku narrowed his eyes at him in disapproval.

"Not exactly. There was no reason for you to be so cruel to Melar. Being proud of having won an Initiate tournament does not turn a child into a Darksider!"

Qui-Gon's answer was cold.

"No, but arrogance and battle fervor should be curbed as early as possible or a Jedi might indeed turn to the Dark Side later in their life. And if the boy cannot take a bit of criticism, then he will never make it to Knighthood anyway. I didn't coddle Chun either and _he_ took the chastisement well enough."

Dooku raised a well-groomed eyebrow, looking utterly unimpressed as he deadpanned,

"Really? To me it looked more like you were quite taken with Chun. There certainly was not much 'chastisement' going on. That boy faked some self-deprecation and just like that he had you wrapped around his little finger!"

Qui-Gon bristled and instinctively jumped to Chun's - and his own - defense.

"The boy has been publicly humiliated by a bully today, Yan. It was a brutal lesson that, I can assure you, has had a genuine effect on him. I do not say that the boy is flawless, and yes I remember what Tahl said about him copying an essay and it is obvious that he has to work on dealing with his anger, but at least he has realized his mistake today and is willing to learn from it. The same cannot be said of the other Initiates I have met so far."

The expression on Dooku's face darkened and his gaze shifted towards where Chun was now chatting with Tahl, the boy's face expressing nothing but remorse.

"You have never met Chun before today, Qui-Gon. You don't know him and you don't know how he behaves when he isn't trying to impress you or when no Master is around to judge him."

"Oh, and you know him?" Qui-Gon challenged his old Master.

Dooku's gaze snapped back to Qui-Gon, his expression grim.

"No, but unlike you I have paid attention to Tahl rambling on about Melar, Chun and their achievements for half of the afternoon. And you know what I have learned about Chun? That he is clever, and certainly clever enough to realize that after his loss of control earlier today he has to present a humble and contrite facade if he doesn't want to ruin his chances of being chosen once and for all. The boy has something about him that I do not like. The way he let you flay his friend without saying a word in his defense and then immediately presented himself in a way you would certainly approve of, was simply too slick."

Qui-Gon frowned. His Master had a point there, but at the moment Qui-Gon would rather eat a venom-mite than admit that. The man was responsible for the fact that Qui-Gon was stuck in the Temple and at the mercy of Yoda for Force's sake! Qui-Gon would be _damned_ before he agreed on anything with the old nag!

Thankfully, he was saved from having to come up with a rebuttal because Yoda used that moment to finally make a reappearance from wherever he had vanished to - which seemed to have been the buffet because the old troll held a plate with food in his hand and was nibbling at some sort of fried bug on a skewer as his hover chair floated towards them. For a moment Qui-Gon could only stare at the food in envy, then he noticed the slightly bewildered Initiate trudging after Yoda's hover chair and he sighed. 

It appeared like Yoda was finally about to make his move.


	8. First Impressions

Half an hour passed and Qui-Gon was...confused. He had expected Yoda to fling his favorite wanna-be Padawan at him, Qui-Gon would give the child the cold shoulder, then they would have their usual silent stand-off, and that would be it. However, as it turned out Yoda was too clever for that transparent approach and had apparently decided to change tactics. He started to introduce what seemed to be random Initiates to Qui-Gon until Qui-Gon could no longer tell the children apart and, to top it off, was nursing a nasty headache.

On the upside, he was no longer paraded around the room like a trained animal and Tahl seemed to have lost interest in him entirely now that he had talked to _her_ favorite Initiates. She was by now busy chatting with the Initiates' lightsaber instructors and paid no more attention to him. On the downside, Dooku wouldn't let Qui-Gon escape from Yoda's clutches and Yoda was suspiciously unperturbed by Qui-Gon's continued rejection of all the children he threw his way.

But the look in the troll's eyes got more and more calculating as time passed. The troll was up to something and Qui-Gon had no idea what. It seemed like Yoda was just... waiting for something to happen, but what for Qui-Gon had no idea - which, of course, was undoubtedly part of Yoda's plan - meaning that Qui-Gon had to stay vigilant the whole time.

It was a blasting nightmare.

The next child came to a halt in front of him, Yoda at his side, and Qui-Gon forced himself to pay attention to the newest nuisance in front of him. He sized the boy up and to his dismay realized that he recognized him from the tournament.

Kenobi.

Just thinking the name caused Qui-Gon's headache to spike to a new height of throbbing pain.

Seriously? Were Yoda's standards really that low that he would even throw Kenobi at him, the vicious bully?! Was he really that desperate?

Though admittedly, if Qui-Gon hadn't known any better he would never have suspected Kenobi of being a violent thug. Up close he looked rather unremarkable: just another twelve-year old human boy, a little small for his age, with a sinewy build that was on the skinny side and a mob of relatively short, unruly red-gold hair on his head. His gray-blue eyes looked hopeful, almost innocent as he gazed up at Qui-Gon and Dooku.

But Qui-Gon _did_ know better. Blast it, Tahl had ranted for at least ten minutes about nothing else than the boy's disciplinary record after he had somehow managed to kick Chun out of the tournament. And wasn't it always like this, darkness hiding behind an innocent face? Hadn't it been the same with Xanatos? No, Qui-Gon would never be fooled by appearances again. Words and deeds mattered, not looks. Looks were deceiving.

And the boy's history proved without a doubt that he was rotten to the core. He was a Darksider in the making if Qui-Gon had ever seen one.

Qui-Gon would enjoy telling Kenobi exactly what he thought of him - or perhaps he would simply watch while Dooku took the boy down a peg. Yes, let Dooku do the talking. This way Yoda had no reason to be mad at Qui-Gon and while Dooku might not have approved of Qui-Gon's harsh words to Melar, he certainly wouldn't handle a bully like Kenobi with kid gloves either.

Dooku said something and Qui-Gon turned his focus towards the unfolding conversation with grim anticipation of what was to come.

"Congratulations on your fifth place, Initiate Kenobi. You performed well today, especially during your duel against Initiate Chun." Dooku's voice was formal, but not hostile and Kenobi's face erupted into a wide grin.

"Thank you, Master Dooku."

The boy practically radiated joy at the mentioning of his victory against Chun, and Qui-Gon almost curled his lips in disgust at having to witness such a shameless display of malicious glee. Kenobi had goaded Chun into embarrassing himself in front of half the Jedi Order and now he had the gall to publicly revel in his victim's humiliation. Did the boy really knew no shame at all? Apparently not.

"Yes, it was an interesting duel to watch," Dooku continued almost contemplatively. "In my experience Initiates usually try to match such displays of anger and raw power like Chun's today with anger and raw strength of their own - and end up failing in more ways than they realize. As a matter of fact, you yourself have quite a reputation for doing exactly that. But this time you remained calm and kept your infamous temper in check. What was different today?"

There! Now the boy would get his comeuppance. Qui-Gon suppressed a smile and waited for the show to begin.

Kenobi blushed and shuffled his feet, but then he straightened, lifted his chin and looked directly into Dooku's critical, dark eyes. Qui-Gon would have given anybody else points for bravery for doing that, but considering what he knew about Kenobi he could only see it as a sign for the boy's insolence and arrogance. Kenobi's tone was also not at all apologetic as he replied,

"I am well aware of the dangers of giving in to one's anger, Master Dooku. As you have just pointed out, I have failed often in that regard in the past. But failure is the greatest teacher and it is because of my past failures that I know that a victory won by giving in to one's dark impulses is nothing but a defeat in disguise. I have a temper, I know it and I know that it is a problem, a flaw that I have to overcome. I do not always succeed just yet, but I meditated extensively today before the start of the tournament and it helped me focus and stay in control during the fight. My disciplinary record might not be exemplary, but I think I have proven today that I am capable of rising above my weaknesses and that I can still become a Jedi Knight."

Despite himself, Qui-Gon snorted.

That answer sounded like a speech Kenobi had spent days preparing in order to play down his bullying and ingratiate himself with a prospective Master - with some Jedi maxims and a quote from Yoda thrown in for good measure. Not that there was a point in trying to smooth-talk Dooku, of course. The man was not so easily fooled and already had Komari Vosa as his Padawan anyway.

Qui-Gon waited for Dooku to tear into the boy, to tell him that Chun had told them what had really happened during their duel and that his insidious behavior proved that he was unfit to become a Jedi Knight. However, to Qui-Gon's utter astonishment Dooku just chuckled - he actually _chuckled_!

"A very eloquent response, Initiate Kenobi. I take it you do very well in your diplomacy classes?"

Qui-Gon could only stare at his old Master in disbelief. That boy tried to pass off his taunting of Chun during the tournament as an achievement and Dooku simply let him?! Not ten minutes ago he had warned Qui-Gon to not trust Chun's display of humility and now Dooku let himself be manipulated by a few pretty words from a known bully?! Seriously?!

"It is my best subject," Kenobi agreed, looking like he was about to burst with pride and self-satisfaction, "and I hope to specialize in diplomatic missions as a Knight."

"Yes," Yoda chimed in, "talented negotiator, young Obi-Wan is. Make a good diplomat, he will, one day, if the right teacher, he has." He looked pointedly at Qui-Gon and Qui-Gon could no longer restrain himself. 

"You are certainly articulate in your defense, Initiate Kenobi," he drawled. "But did you really achieve your victory over Initiate Chun because you earned it, or only because you purposefully provoked him until he lost control so you would stand a better chance at winning?"

Kenobi's head whipped around and he stared up at Qui-Gon in wide-eyed shock. 

"What?"

Their gazes locked and Qui-Gon's headache somehow increased by another notch.

"Qui-Gon..." Dooku's voice carried a clear warning, but Qui-Gon ignored him, just like he ignored his mounting headache. If his Master didn't want to say what needed to be said, then Qui-Gon would do it himself. His eyes bore without mercy into Kenobi's and he watched with grim satisfaction as the boy's face paled when the meaning of Qui-Gon's words sank in.

He hadn't expected Qui-Gon to know about this little insidious scheme of his, had he?

But of course Yoda had to jump in to defend Kenobi, breaking the moment before the boy had the chance to stutter a flimsy excuse and give his game away.

"Quite an accusation, that is, Master Jinn." Yoda's ears twitched in displeasure. "Think something like this of Obi-Wan, why would you?"

Qui-Gon shrugged nonchalantly and made sure to keep track of the expression on Kenobi's face from the corner of his eyes as he answered Yoda's question.

"I talked with Initiate Chun, and considering that he is not known for such sudden displays of rage - unlike Initiate Kenobi I might add - I have no reason to doubt Chun's version of events."

Fury flared in the boy's eyes at Qui-Gon's words and his jaw tightened. Qui-Gon slightly turned his head to lock gazes with Kenobi and raised his eyebrows at him in challenge, daring the boy to call Chun a liar. What would the boy do? Would he confess his despicable behavior and show remorse or double down on his lie? Somehow Qui-Gon was not surprised to find that it was the latter.

"I won the duel fair and square, and anybody claiming anything different is a liar!"

"Really?" Qui-Gon's voice oozed disbelief and sarcasm, causing Kenobi's face to redden and his fists to clench at his sides in anger. Qui-Gon could feel the boy's Force presence tremble with barely constrained fury and he held his breath, waiting for the Darkness inside the boy to break free in an undoubtedly violent outburst, proving once and for all that there was nothing but Darkness in his heart.

Then a gimer stick hit Qui-Gon painfully in the stomach, knocking the breath out of him and forcing him to focus on catching his breath.

"Enough, that is!" Yoda was shooting daggers at him, looking more livid than Qui-Gon could remember ever seeing him before. "Only person trying to provoke people into losing their temper, _you_ are. Ashamed of yourself, you should be! Leave, you will now, and meditate on your despicable behavior, you will!" Yoda pointed his gimer stick at the exit. "Go!"

Qui-Gon scoffed at being compared with somebody like Kenobi. He was trying to make the boy drop his false mask and show his true self, not trying to gain an advantage! Still, he was all too happy to obey Yoda's command. He turned on his heels and without a word of goodbye strode straight towards the exit of the main refectory, not bothering to look back at the little group he left behind or to make a detour to the buffet. He was no longer hungry. He passed by Tahl, who was now talking to Master Drallig, and finally escaped from this hell.

He had reports to write so he could get back into the field where he belonged.

 

***

 

Bruck's eyes followed Master Jinn as he walked stiffly out of the room. He had hoped to speak a second time with the Jedi Master before the meet and greet was over. Their first conversation had gone quite well and the hints Master Tahl had given him afterwards about how he and Master Jinn would make a good match and what the man was looking for in a Padawan, had given him hope. But now Jinn had left and with him Bruck's chance to be chosen as a Padawan tonight. However, according to Master Tahl the Council had forced Jinn to stay for quite a while in the Temple this time, so all was not lost just yet.

He still had a chance. He only had to take it... and get rid of the competition.

His gaze traveled back to the people Jinn had left behind and he narrowed his eyes in contemplation at the little group. It was no secret that Yoda and Dooku had been trying to find a new Padawan for Jinn for almost three years now in the hope that a new student would help Jinn heal from the wound his last Padawan had struck. But so far Jinn had always rejected any Initiates introduced to him and always left the Temple immediately after attending an Initiate tournament. However, it appeared like Dooku and Yoda were no longer willing to let him get away with that, and considering how an unusually grim-faced Yoda was putting an almost protective hand on Oafy-Wan's trembling shoulder and how Dooku glared after his former student, Bruck thought he had a pretty good idea whom they had chosen as the perfect Padawan for Jinn.

But why? _Why_ did they think Oafy-Wan of all people deserved to be Qui-Gon Jinn's Padawan? Why not _Bruck_? He was _better_ than Oafy-Wan in every regard! He was a better lightsaber fighter, a better student, much more powerful in the Force than Oafy-Wan could ever hope to become and simply much more intelligent!

Thankfully, Jinn was obviously not the slightest bit interested in getting himself stuck with Oafy-Wan. Still, it complicated things and meant that Bruck would do well to speed up his plans to get Oafy-Wan expelled from the Order. The sooner the loser was gone the better. Unfortunately, he still had not been able to come up with a proper plan on how to actually achieve that. He could provoke the other boy into starting another brawl, but it looked like that would not be enough. He needed something else, something that would damn Oafy-Wan in the eyes of the Masters once and for all but wouldn't incriminate Bruck himself. But what?

Bruck stared into the depths of the glass of muja juice he held in his hand and watched as the dark liquid swirled around in it, wracking his brain for an idea. 

A shadow fell on the glass as somebody approached him and Bruck's gaze snapped upward. A small Mon Calamari girl hesitantly halted in front of him and to his dismay Bruck realized that it was the little oaf who had emptied her breakfast tray over his head this very morning.

Force, the nerve of that girl to ever dare try to talk to him again!

"Um, hello Bruck?" Her voice was timid and Bruck was tempted to snap at her and tell her to go to the ten Corellian hells but he refrained from actually doing so. He could not afford to be seen as acting anything but friendly and polite for at least another week, not after he had lost control in the tournament like that. His blood still boiled at the thought of how Oafy-Wan had bested him, but giving in to his fury again would do him no good. He would get his revenge on the fish girl later, after he had dealt with Oafy-Wan.

He forced himself to smile at the girl.

"Hello, Bant. It was Bant, wasn't it?"

The girl nodded and blushed.

"Yes. I just...um... wanted to apologize again for what happened earlier today. I am really, really sorry for ruining your breakfast and embarrassing you like that."

The hand around his glass involuntarily tightened at the reminder and he could feel his face heat up, but his smile never faltered.

"It is all right. I know you didn't do it on purpose, and I am sorry I snapped at you like that. I am afraid I was nervous because of the tournament and my nerves got the better of me."

The girl nodded hastily and looked up at him with open adoration in her big fish eyes.

"I understand, don't worry. You were absolutely great in the tournament, by the way, and you should have won. You really should have. You are the only one who deserved it and everybody knows it."

Bruck's grip on his glass tightened a little bit more until his knuckles turned white.

"Thank you. Kenobi only managed to win because he played dirty, you know."

Her eyes grew even bigger and her voice was full of shocked disbelief as she asked.

"He cheated?" 

Bruck allowed his face to grow dark and a hint of disgust to color his voice.

"He called me names and taunted me right before our duel started." She sucked in a sharp breath. "I was unfortunately stupid enough to let it get to me and lost control during our duel as a consequence. He would never have stood a chance against me otherwise - and he knows it!" 

The girl nodded quickly, all too eager to agree with anything he said. Force, the girl was so easy to manipulate it was disgusting. 

"He is awful, I know! And I am sorry he always takes his anger out on you. But he will be gone soon, so you won't have to deal with him much longer." Yes, Oafy-Wan would be gone soon, because Bruck would make sure of it. "And do you know what? He actually tried to befriend me this morning after the, um, incident by telling me all those horrible lies about you. But don't worry, I told him to get lost."

Bruck jerked in surprise.

" _What_?"

The girl jumped at his too loud reply, but after a little bit of coaxing happily launched into a detailed description of what exactly Oafy-Wan had said to her in the morning, her cheeks reddening in increasing anger at Oafy-Wan's audacity and hands gesturing wildly as she did so. 

Bruck listened to her, almost transfixed, as an idea slowly took shape in his head. He smiled benevolently at the girl at the end of her angry description of the short encounter.

"Thank you, for standing up for me. He is intent on destroying me, you know, because he is jealous of me and can't stand being only average." He paused and did his best to stare intently, almost pleadingly, into her eyes. "Would you help me and do me a favor?"

"Of course," was her breathless reply.

"I need information on what he is planning next. I can't let myself be caught off guard again. Would you pretend to be his friend and tell me what he is up to?" Her face fell as she realized what he was asking of her. "You don't have to, of course," he added hastily before doubling down on his request, "but I am afraid of what he might do next. Kenobi is unhinged, he is a brutal thug without conscience. Force knows what he is capable of, especially now that he is so close to aging out and getting desperate." A short calculated pause. "It wouldn't be for long, of course, and I would be forever in your debt."

She hesitated for a few seconds, but then her face hardened with resolve and she nodded briskly.

"All right, I'll do it."

Bruck's face broke into the first genuine smile of the evening.

"Thank you. I will make it up to you, I promise. You are a good friend."

She smiled shyly, but proudly back at him and soon returned to her friends with a happy spring in her steps. Bruck watched her retreating back and smirked. It looked like he had just found a way to kill two birds with one stone. Thank the Force were naive young girls.

 


	9. Plans

The hour bell rang, a short series of soft, melodic chimes that announced the end of the ongoing lesson, and Obi-Wan watched helplessly as his desk terminal went black, his unfinished astronavigation exam vanishing before his eyes. He groaned in quiet despair and dropped his face into his hands.  

What sadist gave a surprise test the morning after an Initiate tournament? And why did it have to be astronavigation of all things, why not an etiquette or history quiz? Astronavigation was one of his worst subjects at the best of times and today was definitely not that. He would be lucky to get a passing grade and not be sent to the remedial class!

With another groan Obi-Wan lowered his hands to peek at his classmates who were beginning to get to their feet and compare results, their faces grim and voices tense. The other twelve-year-olds - Initiates and Padawans alike - looked unanimously unhappy and more than one gave their unperturbed teacher, who was still sorting his datapads at the front desk, covered mutinous glares as they walked towards the classroom door, intent on leaving this rather unpleasant experience behind them.

At least he was not the only one who had been unprepared for this test and Bruck was not attending this particular class, sparing Obi-Wan from having to endure the bully's haughty sneer just yet. Bruck would undoubtedly have aced this test somehow, but Bruck was thankfully in the advanced astronavigation class and therefore not Obi-Wan's problem right now. And he would hopefully continue to not be Obi-Wan's problem until at least their shared lightsaber class in the afternoon.

He got to his feet with a resigned sigh, gathered up his bag and followed his classmates out of the room, careful to stay at the back of the group of about twenty twelve-year-olds. As long as he stayed away from everyone, he could tell himself that he was alone because he chose to and not because his agemates avoided him like he had contracted the Silurian plague. He purposefully didn't look towards Reeft and Garen, who didn't so much as glance at him before they - and most of the other remaining Initiates - took a right turn down a side corridor to hurry towards their basic Force healing class, a class Obi-Wan was not yet qualified for thanks to his lack of skill in the Living Force. He _also_ didn't pay attention to how smaller groups of Padawans continued to break away from the main group to hurry to the Padawan classes their Masters had signed them up for, classes that a mere Initiate was _definitely_ not allowed to attend (Curse the Council of Reassignment and their stupid rules!).

In the end only he and another Initiate who was also close to aging out were left alone to walk aimlessly through the corridors of the Halls of Learning because they had no class to attend to. That was until Hora noticed that her only remaining company was 'Oafy-Wan' Kenobi, the loser who had 'cheated' in the tournament the day before in order to beat everyone's favorite bully. She started, scrunched up her nose at him in disgust, and then stepped up her pace to get as far away from him as fast as possible. Obi-Wan watched with gritted teeth as she stalked away, undoubtedly heading towards the communal dojos to use the free period and work on her lightsaber skills, but he said nothing. In six weeks Hora would be in his place. She would cross the magical one-month line and with less than a month away from aging out she would be treated like she had already failed. In a few weeks she would be the one who was looked down upon because she was a loser. Snapping at her would achieve nothing.

Obi-Wan stopped in his tracks and took a deep, calming breath and did his best to let go of all his disappointment, fear and anger as he slowly exhaled. He needed to keep his head and be on his best behavior. He needed to find a Master and he needed to do it quickly before Bruck's lies about Obi-Wan's 'cheating' in the tournament spread from the Initiate Wing to the rest of the Temple. It was bad enough that Bruck had already managed to poison Master Jinn against him, he would not sit around and wait until everybody else had heard about him 'provoking' and 'insulting' Bruck right before their duel.

He took another deep, steadying breath and resolutely pushed aside all memories of his ill-fated meeting with Master Jinn from the evening before. He also resolutely ignored the twinges of pain and betrayal he felt by just thinking about the long-haired Jedi Master. There were other unbound Jedi, Knights and Masters who were actually looking for a new apprentice instead of having to be blackmailed into attending the Initiate Tournaments. These Jedi might not be as accomplished in diplomacy or lightsaber combat, they might not be able to teach Obi-Wan as much, they might not be the legendary maverick Qui-Gon Jinn, but at least they were also not as callous as said Jedi Master who was much less impressive in real life than he was in the stories told about his missions.

Obi-Wan didn't care that his childhood hero thought he was an insidious bully. He didn't care. He really didn't!

Curs it, why did people always believe everything Bruck said even his most outrageous lies?

How did Bruck always manage to somehow make it look like Obi-Wan was the villain?

Why?!

How?!

Did people really only care about good looks and a charming smile no matter what was lurking behind the mask? Really? Even a renowned diplomat like Master Jinn?

Bah!

Obi-Wan gave himself mental slap. 

_'Stop it Obi-Wan! What are you? A whiny baby who can only wallow in self-pity? You want to become a Padawan? You want to be useful and be able to actually help the people in this galaxy instead of becoming a glorified servant?_ _Then_ do _something to make that dream come true and stop standing in the middle of this corridor like an unwanted and forgotten piece of luggage!'_

Angry with himself for turning into such a pathetic creature just because _one_ Jedi Master believed Bruck's lies, Obi-Wan got himself moving again, took a sharp left turn and marched out of the Halls of Learning with his head held high. He had an hour until midday break and he was determined to make the best of this time. 

Knight Sato and Master N'tig'hula had shown interest in him after the tournament the day before. He would talk to them both and try to convince one of them to take him on as a Padawan learner as soon as his classes of the day were over. However, he needed to be prepared for these conversations. Master N'tig'hula specialized in investigating organized crime, but Obi-Wan knew nothing about that kind of work and he had never even heard of Knight Sato before yesterday so he had his work cut out for him. But thankfully the Jedi Archives provided answers for pretty much any question a person might come up with. Now they only had to provide him with an answer on how he could convince N'tig'hula or Sato to accept him as their Padawan.

The Archives were relatively empty as Obi-Wan entered the first of the majestic, light-flooded halls that made up the gigantic library. His boots clicked softly on the polished marble floor as he walked past the rows upon rows of large shelves full of softly glowing holo books that cast the whole place in a soft blue light. Not wasting any time with sightseeing, he passed quickly through the first long hallway to reach the octagonal central hall that connected the eight aisles of the library like a hub connected the spokes of a wheel. There, he walked through one the six massive archways to enter the secondary aisle that contained the holo books and work tables set aside especially for Initiates and Padawans.

Slipping into one of the tall chairs in front of a desk, he activated the desk's holo terminal and keyed in a series of commands to start his research. As an Initiate he had only limited access to the Jedi Temple's massive database but that would be enough. He could access the public file of a prospective Master and read non-classified mission reports. That would hopefully give him an idea on how he could impress Sato and N’tig’hula. 

He could do this, he could find a Master. 

He didn't need Qui-Gon Jinn's approval, even if standing close to that man had somehow felt so incredibly right, like that was where he was supposed to be...

But another Master would do perfectly fine, thank you very much, and considering Jinn's inconsiderate attitude he would likely be better off with Sato or N'tig'hula anyway!

He was worthy of becoming a Jedi Knight. Nobody could deny that after his performance the day before and Qui-Gon Jinn could go and space himself!

With perhaps more force than was strictly necessary, Obi-Wan tapped on the first file on Knight Sato that appeared on his terminal, bringing the holo screens of his terminal fully to life as the file opened, and immersed himself in his research.

 

***

 

Bant padded silently across the marble floor, her bare amphibian feet making almost no sound on the cold, smooth surface. Still, she tried to creep along in complete silence in order to not draw any attention to herself. She was anxious, more anxious than she cared to admit. The official midday break was over and she should be doing her midday meditations right now, not wander through the Temple looking for another Initiate - a Initiate who obviously _didn't_ bother with doing his mandatory midday meditations, mind you!

Why had she agreed to this again?

Because Bruck needed her help, that was why! Bruck counted on her and she wouldn't let him down!

With renewed resolve she slunk past another row of holo books, careful to not be seen by anybody with the authority to punish her for skipping her meditations, and craned her neck to peer down a row of empty desks. She sucked in a sharp breath as she finally spotted her target.

There!

His mob of red hair stuck out like a flame in a rainy night with all the blue background lighting of the Archives. He sat alone at one of the holo terminals, his chin resting on one of his hands and his face contorted in a concentrated frown as he read some information on the glowing holo screen in front of him. His desk was cluttered with several datapads and a lot of holo books. He had clearly been in the Archives for quite a while, had probably spent his entire midday break here researching something. It was of course possible that he was only doing his homework or preparing for one of his afternoon classes but Bant's suspicion had been roused. He might just as well be plotting something, using the fact that everybody else would eat there midday meal and then meditate to make sure nobody would notice what he was doing.

Bant's anger flared at the idea and without further hesitation she stepped around the corner and marched towards Obi-Wan Kenobi, all thoughts of being punished for her own rule breaking forgotten.

"What are doing here?" Her question sounded more like an accusation but she didn't particularly care. She didn't feel like being very friendly at the moment. Instead she glowered at the older Initiate with her hands on her hips and feet set apart in an aggressive stance. 

"What?" He jerked in surprise and his eyes were wide as his gaze snapped to her face. He looked and sounded genuinely confused, however Bant's gaze traveled right past his face to the datapad that had been hidden from few by him just a few seconds ago. Its screen showed the picture of none other than Qui-Gon Jinn. 

Bant's suspicion skyrocketed and her voice grew louder.

"Why are you researching Master Jinn and why are you not meditating like you should be?"

His expression changed to one of alarm and he hastily scrambled for the datapads, doing his best to hide their contents from her view, but she was sure she saw the official file of Qui-Gon Jinn displayed on one of them - and there was only one reason for an Initiate to download the file of a Jedi Master who was looking for a Padawan...

Indignation on Bruck's behalf sang in her blood. Her new friend had taken her aside before breakfast this very morning to tell her that Master Jinn had shown interest in choosing him the night before and that he feared that Kenobi might try to sabotage Bruck's chances of becoming the man's Padawan just out of spite. It seemed that Bruck had been right to worry.

How dare that loser!

Bant straightened to her full - if unfortunately rather unimpressive - height and prepared herself to give that fraught of an Initiate the verbal lashing of his lifetime, but unfortunately Kenobi didn't give her the chance to even start her tirade.

"I have decided to do some studying in the Archives during my midday break, Initiate Eerin," he answered primly, "and I fail to see how this is any of your business."

His face was crimson with embarrassment and he turned away from her, but his voice was calm and his hands steady as he shut down the computer terminal and, put the datapads in his bag and gathered up the holo books. Then he stood up and glared down at her. 

Bant involuntarily gulped. He was a lot taller than her when standing and he was obviously not happy about her interruption of his 'research'. But he certainly wouldn't dare to beat her up in the middle of such a public place as the Archives, would he? Bant was suddenly uncomfortably aware that they were very much alone in the learner's aisle of the massive library and that he could do whatever he wanted to her because there would be no witnesses. Fear crawled up her spine as she looked up into his stormy blue-gray eyes and she involuntarily took a step back in an attempt to get some distance between herself and the danger in front of her. One of the holo books in his arms shifted and the gills on the sides of her throat puffed up in an instinctive reaction to try and scare of the predator at the unexpected movement.

Kenobi stiffened and something that almost looked like pain passed through his eyes, but it was gone within a heartbeat and Bant was sure she had only imagined it. However, his hesitation gave her the second she needed to muster some false bravado. Never show weakness in front of a bully, it only encourages them. So Bant forced her gills to deflate, squared her shoulders and raised her chin in challenge.

"You are not studying, you are gathering information on Master Jinn _and_  you are doing it during our meditation time!" Bant was quite proud that her voice was loud and clear and did not shake in the slightest.

However, to her surprise he did not deny her accusation. Instead his face scrunched up in confusion until he looked at the chrono on the wall. Then his face blanched in horrified realization. He opened his mouth to say something, but he was cut off by the cool voice of somebody else.

"May I ask what you two are doing here at this time of day, Initiates? You two are supposed to be meditating right now and not have shouting matches in the Archives!"

They both whipped around to see the elderly Head Librarian, Madam Nu, walk towards them in a dignified pace. Her mouth was set into an uncharacteristically thin line that clearly conveyed her displeasure and the usual friendly twinkle in her gray eyes was conspicuously absent. Bant could feel the blood drain from her face as the elderly woman honed in on them like a heat-seeking missile on its target.

Blast it! Now she was in real trouble. Master Nu was kind but nobody trespassed on her ground and got away without punishment.

And Bant had no ready excuse!

She could hardly say that she had been looking for Kenobi specifically, not in front of the other Initiate at least. That would only lead to more questions she had no good answers for. What had she been thinking? She should have given up her her search when her midday break had ended or at least prepared a proper explanation before approaching Kenobi, but she had been brash - again! How often had her crèche master lectured her about thinking before speaking or doing something? And then she had to start an argument in the kriffing Archives. Bant stifled a groan. Force, she was so stupid. Madam Nu would give her detention until she was old and gray herself.

The gray-haired woman came to a halt in front of them, every line of her body expressing her clear disapproval of their behavior and demanding an answer to her previous question. Bant was in too much of a panic to come up with anything that didn't sound like an outright lie but thankfully Kenobi found his voice before their silence became awkward. He cleared his throat and bowed deeply and respectfully to the Head Librarian. Somehow he even managed to do that without sending the stack of holo books in his arms tumbling to the ground.

"I apologize, Master Nu. We have been working during our midday break and forgot the time," He lifted his arms slightly to show off the holo books he was carrying, "and I am afraid the argument about whose fault that was got a little bit louder and more heated than intended. We were just about to return the holo books before leaving immediately for the meditation gardens, and we will of course make up for the lost time during our evening meditation tonight."

Bant stood perfectly still, barely daring to breathe, and tried to look like this was absolutely not new to her. But she wouldn't have needed to bother, Master Nu's narrowed eyes were trained on Kenobi as she picked up one of the holo books from his arms and read its title. Her eyebrows rose in surprise.

"'Economic theory and galactic trade policies'... that is quite heavy reading for someone your age, Initiate Kenobi. You are not trying again to study the subject matter of a Padawan class all on your own, are you?"

Kenobi blushed and he shifted uncomfortably on his feet, the stack of holo books in his arms clattering softly with his movement.

"No, Master Nu. I was preparing to speak with a Jedi Knight later today about becoming their Padawan learner and wanted to become at least somewhat knowledgeable in said Knight's chosen field of work beforehand. Bant was so kind to help me." 

The wrinkles around Madam Nu's eyes softened visibly and her whole posture appeared suddenly much less rigid and unforgiving.

"I see. How about I put these away for you and you and your young friend get going, hmm?" 

Kenobi seemed to be at a loss for words for a moment, his mouth opening and closing silently, then he bowed a second time.

"Thank you, Master Nu. That would be very kind of you." 

His voice sounded just a little bit hoarse and Bant watched in silent disbelief as he quickly transferred the holo books into Madam Nu's arms. The librarian accepted the books, gave them both a quick nod and a small smile. Then she stalked off into the labyrinth of shelves that made up her personal uncontested empire and vanished from their sight.

As soon as the Jedi Master was gone Bant released a relieved breath, only to squeak in surprise as Kenobi grabbed her unceremoniously by her collar and dragged her after him towards the exit of the Archives. Bant batted his hand away but followed him without further complaints. She owed him for that one, which was a problem because she was supposed to spy on him... How had she managed to get into this stupid situation?!

They walked next to each other without uttering a word and in silent agreement decided to squeeze through the maintenance corridors instead of walking through the public corridors to get to the nearest meditation chamber. There was no point in running into some busybody Master who would stop and punish them for skipping their meditation. Only when they were sitting on large meditation cushions in a small, private meditation chamber did Bant break the silence.

"Thank you for lying and getting me out of this." Blast it, her voice sounded smaller than she would have liked.

Kenobi crossed his legs in a typical meditation pose on the cushion opposite her and huffed.

"Technically I didn't lie. I did indeed spend the entire midday break doing research to help me find a Master, and considering that you were in the Archives too, I simply deduced that you were also there to study. The fact that I do not know what _exactly_ you were studying is not important and you _did_ help me by pointing out that I had forgotten the time. I never said anything about _how_ you were helping me. So I was telling the truth - from a certain point of view. However, that does remind me, what horrible crime did I commit to prompt you to hiss at me like a disgruntled loth cat? You didn't come into the Archives just to look for me, did you?"

His tone was sardonic but his eyes were curious and a heavy stone settled into Bant's stomach.

Kriff! She had tried to avoid that particular question. She was not a very good spy, was she?

She squirmed on her meditation cushion and picked uneasily on a speck of dark dirt that was now staining her gray Initiate tunics, undoubtedly a souvenir from their journey through the maintenance corridors.

"Um, maybe?" She couldn't help but wince at the obvious anxiety in her voice. She was such a fool! Why hadn't she prepared a proper explanation? Why?! Such a rookie mistake! Bruck would be disappointed. Most likely he would never talk to her again after this catastrophic failure. A worthy Jedi would be better than this.

Kenobi's tone was grim as he replied,

"What has he done?"

"What?" Bant looked back up at Kenobi's face in confusion and found that his expression had darkened.

"What has Bruck done to you?"

Bant blinked in surprise before realization struck her and she inhaled sharply. Right, his offer for help... But that had only been a ruse, hadn't it? Bruck would never purposefully hurt somebody! Still, it was the perfect explanation for why she had sought him out, but it still felt _wrong_ to lie like that...

"I..." She trailed off because she had no idea what she was going to say. Instead she only bit her lip and dropped her gaze.

He sighed.

"All right. You do not have to talk about it, but I am here if you change your mind."

He sounded so sincere and kind, and inwardly Bant cringed at her own duplicity. What had she gotten herself into? But no, he had admitted that he had sought information about potential Masters in the Archives, and one of these Masters had been Qui-Gon Jinn. 

And _that_ did not make any sense.

Master Jinn had shown no interest in Obi-Wan Kenobi. Bant had watched the Master storm out of the meet and greet the night before, right after talking to the boy, but his conversation with Bruck sometime earlier seemed to have gone very well. Kenobi was trying to steal Master Jinn from Bruck and needed to be stopped!

Reassured that she was doing the right thing, Bant nodded and tried to smile at Kenobi. The smile probably didn't look very genuine but it seemed to be enough because he smiled back at her. Then he closed his eyes to meditate and Bant followed suit, doing her best to banish any feelings of guilt she might have felt about deceiving him like that.

What she was doing was not wrong. She was a Jedi, and a Jedi helped those in need and brought wrongdoers to justice. And that was what she was doing here.

She would later meet with Bruck and tell him about Kenobi's research on Master Jinn as well as the fact that she had managed to 'establish contact' with her target. Things had not exactly gone to (her very stupid) plan, but she was on friendly terms with Kenobi now and would hopefully get him to talk to her about his plans for Bruck in the near future. Master Jinn would choose Bruck as his Padawan, Kenobi would be sent to the Service Corps where he belonged and all would be well.

And yet... as she meditated Bant couldn't help but feel that she was about to make a mistake she would come to regret.


	10. The Art of Being a Meddling Troll

Yoda's quarters were silent except for the low background hum of Coruscant's never ceasing air traffic that penetrated even the thick outer walls of the Jedi Temple. Normally Yoda, like all the inhabitants of the Temple, was so used to the noise that he was no longer aware of it, but this early afternoon the sound droned loudly and ominously in his sensitive ears as he sat alone at his low dining table and stared into his cup of cooling lahdia tea without really seeing it.

He felt old... old and helpless.

So here he sat, the Grand Master of the Jedi Order, more than eight hundred years old and allegedly the wisest Jedi alive, staring into the murky liquid in front of him in the vain hope that it would somehow reveal an answer to the question as to how to save Qui-Gon Jinn, because Qui-Gon Jinn needed saving even if the stubborn man didn't want to admit it to himself. And while he had expected for his grandpadawan to be stubborn, he had underestimated just how much the man's pain had warped him. Qui-Gon could no longer see anything but Darkness in the people around him. He no longer followed the Will of the Force, couldn't even feel how the Force sung around him and young Obi-Wan with joy because he was too blinded by his own pain. It made Yoda's heart ache with grief and worry to see his grandpadawan reduced to this, but no matter what he had tried so far the stubborn man wouldn't let anybody help him.

It was exasperating and infuriating.

Yoda sighed and finally took a sip of his tea, his nose immediately scrunching up in disgust as the cold, unappetizing concoction hit his tongue.

Ugh, he needed to prepare a new cup. This stuff was simply no longer drinkable.

He grabbed his gimer stick to help him get to his feet but stopped in mid-movement, his ears twitching, as he detected a familiar Force presence storming towards his quarters. Fury and pain clouded the once bright light of the Master's aura, the turbid maelstrom of emotions turning it into the equivalent of a rolling thundercloud instead of the calm pool of light that it was supposed to be.

With another sigh, Yoda settled back down on his cushion and prepared himself for the battle to come. He had the distinct feeling he knew what this conversation would be about. A wave of his hand, a small manipulation of the Force, and the door to his quarters swished open, revealing a fuming Qui-Gon Jinn, his hand raised to punch the door chime, standing in front of Yoda's door. Yoda didn't so much as blink.

"Greetings, Master Jinn. Usually very crafty, you are, in avoiding these quarters. A problem, is there?"

Qui-Gon glared daggers at him and marched into the room, fury evident in his every movement as his aura darkened even further. He stopped at the other side of the low table opposite Yoda and glowered down at the older Jedi in a rather blatant and pointless attempt to intimidate him with his far superior height. Yoda kept his face purposefully blank and pleasant as he craned his neck to look up at the long-haired human who towered above him. Jinn's expression was thunderous, but his anger could not conceal the exhausted lines in his face and the dark rings under his eyes that spoke of a sleepless night and a troubled mind. Yoda's worries immediately multiplied.

"Yes, there is indeed a _problem_ , Master Yoda!" Qui-Gon hissed, leaning slightly forward and pointing an accusing finger at him. "I have received a notification that I have been assigned as an assistant teacher for a Shii-Cho lightsaber class, starting this very afternoon! May I ask how this has happened?"

Yoda only tilted his head ever so slightly and replied without missing a beat,

"Asked for an assistant teacher, Master Drallig has, and suggested you for this position, Tahl has. Qualified for it, you are, and plenty of free time, you have, so assign you, the Council did." He gave Qui-Gon his most innocent look. "Worried, are you, that not sufficient your skill with a lightsaber is, to teach children?

Qui-Gon's eyes flashed and he took another, almost threatening, step forward.

"We had a deal, Master Yoda," he growled. "I would regularly attend the Initiate Tournaments and in exchange you would leave me _alone_!"

Yoda allowed just a little bit of steel to enter his voice as he replied,

"Jedi Master, you are. Obligations, with that title come. The duty to teach, one of them is. Refuse to take a Padawan, you do, so teach classes whenever you are in the Temple, you will. Make exceptions for you, because throwing tantrums, you are, the Council will not. Of course, refuse the assignment, you can, on grounds that not fit for fulfilling your duties, you are."

He locked gazes with the tall human Master, all but daring him to do exactly that and finally give him the excuse he needed to officially send him to the mind healers. Qui-Gon's jaw ticked and the furious thunderclouds of his aura slowed down and finally stilled as he forcefully reined in his turbulent emotions and locked them away behind his mental shields. Yoda honestly didn't know whether he should be relieved or disappointed at this piece of evidence that Qui-Gon had not lost control just yet. In a way, things would be easier and better for everyone if the mind healers could just declare Qui-Gon not fit for duty and force him to seek counseling. But then again, the stubborn man would likely simply sit there in his sessions and refuse to talk to them out of spite until they gave up and released him. As hard as it was to accept, nobody could simply force Qui-Gon to seek out help, he had to choose to accept it first.

It obviously cost Qui-Gon an enormous effort but Yoda could feel him release his anger into the Force until his aura cleared and brightened visibly. Now it resembled at least a turbid pool. The man took a deep breath and crossed his arms in front of his chest, hands vanishing in the sleeves of his cloak as he straightened and transformed himself into the almost picture-perfect image of a proper Jedi Master - at least on the outside.

"Very well, then I will teach a class." Even Qui-Gon's voice was calm and controlled now. "However, I am an expert in Ataru, not Shii-Cho. There is no point in me teaching a Shii-Cho class. Give me an Ataru class instead."

A spark of new hope flickered to life in Yoda's chest at his grandpadawan's unexpectedly easy agreement. Perhaps Tahl's little scheme could indeed work. But he had to be careful with his choice of words now, or Qui-Gon would dig in his heels and do Force knew what.

Yoda got up from his cushion with a grunt and hobbled towards his little kitchen unit to prepare a new cup of tea. He bought himself time by filling the kettle with water and place it on the hot plate, careful to keep his back to Qui-Gon and not let him see his face as he said,

"Open a position for teaching Ataru at the moment, there is not." The lie tasted almost as foul on his tongue as the cold tea had but it was for Qui-Gon's own good. "And foundation for all other lightsaber forms Shii-Cho is. Ataru master, you are, so mastered Shii-Cho, you have too. Also, be able to make suggestions on who of the young ones might have talent to study Ataru in the future, you can." That at least was the truth. "Valuable information for their Masters, that will be."

Behind him Qui-Gon snorted.

"Their Masters, you say. What Masters? You have assigned me to teach a class full of Initiates, not Padawans. They have no Masters. Don't try to play games with me, Yoda. We both know what the real purpose of this teaching assignment is. At least be honest about it!"

Yoda felt his ears twitch ever so slightly in response to this very true statement despite his best efforts to suppress the instinctive urge. Thankfully, the teakettle chose that moment to start whistling, distracting them both for just a moment from the conversation and Yoda's traitorous ears. Yoda quickly removed the kettle with boiling water from the hot plate and started preparing his much-needed cup of tea. He gave Qui-Gon a questioning look over his shoulder before pouring the water into the cup, but the tall human only shook his head in silent refusal.

"Sure, are you? New blend from Dagobah, it is, very invigorating."

"No, thank you," Qui-Gon replied instantly, "I know your taste in cuisine. And don't try to change the subject! I will not take another Padawan. What will it take for you to finally accept that and leave me kriffing alone?!"

Yoda huffed at his young grandpadawan’s vulgar choice of words - and his lack of taste. Humans! None of them ever appreciated the food - or tea - he prepared. There simply was something wrong with mammal taste buds. But that was beside the point now.

Not bothering with trying to balance the filled cup in his hand, Yoda used the Force to float the cup to the table before hobbling after it, the earthy smell of the steeping lahdia leafs already teasing his nose. He settled back down on his seating cushion and took a first cautious sip, savoring the taste that reminded him of his long lost swampy homeworld. He smacked his lips in appreciation and finally replied to Qui-Gon's outburst.

"Trying to force you to take a Padawan, I am not." That was technically the truth. He had tried force and that hadn't worked out very well. "Hope, I still do, that change your mind, you will, but honor our agreement, I will, and not even mention the word 'Padawan', I will, for as long as you stay in the Temple." Of course, he couldn't promise the same for Tahl and Yan. "If not wish it, you do, then not even seek you out, I will." Again, he was secure in his knowledge that Tahl and Yan would do that for him.

Yoda watched as Qui-Gon's eyes narrowed in suspicion. That promise obviously sounded a little bit too good to be true in his ears and Yoda couldn't blame him. So he did his best to appear as innocent and non-threatening as possible. He kept his posture slightly slumped in defeat, his ears relaxed and his eyes wide as he looked up at Qui-Gon from his cushion. Sometimes it really paid off to be of small stature, have cute ears and the big eyes of a child.

His grandpadawan said nothing so Yoda continued,

"Besides, advanced Shii-Cho class, it is. Mostly young Junior Padawans, your students will be. Also attend, a few of the more advanced Senior Initiates will, yes, but likely met and rejected them all yesterday, you already have. Harass you, they will not. Teach them to be polite and accept a rejection, we do."

Yoda took another long sip of his tea and watched through lowered eyelids as Qui-Gon gnawed at his cheeks and thought that one over. He could practically see the wheels turn in Qui-Gon's head: Should he accept the assignment or fight against it? He could try to somehow get out of it or at least demand another teaching assignment, but the Council might just give him an even less convenient class to teach. Teaching a diplomacy class might still get him stuck with the older Senior Initiates and it would also require hours of preparation for every lesson, not counting the time for marking homework. Neither would be necessary with a lightsaber class and he would only be an assistant teacher, meaning he could focus on the Padawans, claiming that he wanted to evaluate their potential for Ataru, and leave the few attending Initiates to Master Drallig.

Yes, Yoda could picture the thoughts running through Qui-Gon's head as the human Master tried to decide on the best course of action. Yoda purposefully didn't interrupt, but instead focused on drinking his tea and contented himself with covertly watching Qui-Gon's expression and his body language. When Qui-Gon's rigid posture relaxed just a little bit and the thin line of his mouth soften, Yoda had to rigorously suppress the feeling of triumph that wanted to course through him at the sight. Instead he opted for hiding his face behind his tea cup again.

Qui-Gon took a deep breath and fixated Yoda with determined midnight blue eyes.

"Very well. I will help teach this Shii-Cho class until I have finished writing my reports and leave for the next mission. In addition, I will hold you to your promise to leave me alone until then."

Yoda pretended to contemplate this for a few moments, then gave his consent.

"Agreed, we are."

Qui-Gon nodded decisively, looking just a little bit smug as he did so, and then turned to leave.

"Good. May the Force be with you, Master Yoda."

"And with you, grandpadawan."

When the man was gone and his Force presence finally far enough away that Yoda could no longer distinguish him from the thousands of other Jedi in the Temple, the Grand Master allowed a small smile to grace his face. His heart already felt lighter and he was almost tempted to dance around his quarters in victory like a giddy youngling. Even the Force hummed in smug satisfaction.

That had gone much better than expected. He would have to invite Tahl to dinner to thank her properly for arranging this little assignment. Though, she might consider that invitation to be more of a punishment than a reward. On the other hand, watching humans, or humanoids for that matter, politely gulp his favorite swamp stew or a bug-infused cake while trying not to retch was extremely entertaining - and, of course, excellent training for his guests in keeping face during unpleasant diplomatic functions or state dinners. He should invite his old Padawan Yan, too. Then they could use the opportunity to discuss how to proceed with their little operation of getting Qui-Gon a Padawan.

Hmm, yes that was a good idea.

He would have to make sure that they backed off a little bit too. They should let Qui-Gon relax until he let down his guard. Hopefully spending time around young Obi-Wan during these lessons would be enough for Qui-Gon to notice the tendrils of the fledgling Force bond that was practically begging to be formed between the two of them.

That would be enough.

It had to be enough.

Qui-Gon had his failures but he would never deny the Will of the Force. He only had to be made aware of it.

Yoda simply refused to contemplate the alternative.


	11. Dance with the Sarlacc

When Obi-Wan slipped into the training dojo less than two minutes before the official start of the lesson, still occupied with straightening his white training clothes and swallowing the last bite of the sandwich he had grabbed on his way to class, the first thing he noticed was the unusually low noise level in the room that was strangely at odds with how the Force vibrated with excitement and curiosity.

There was no loud laughter, no friendly challenges for sparring matches and no boisterous claims about one's improved fighting skills. Instead his classmates whispered in hushed tones with one another, careful to not draw attention to themselves as they stole glances at something situated in a corner on the other side of the room. That something apparently was the topic of all the excited, though quiet, conversations and the reason for his classmates' strange behavior.

Mystified, Obi-Wan pushed past a small group of Padawans that stood huddled close together to get a better view. What he then saw made him freeze in his tracks and gape openly. There on the floor sat none other than Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, his legs folded gracefully beneath his large body, his face peaceful and his eyes closed as he meditated.

Qui-Gon Jinn was meditating in a training dojo within the Halls of Learning, apparently waiting for their lightsaber lesson to begin - a mere day after the Initiate Tournament!

Now he understood why everybody was brimming with excitement. There was only one logical reason for the Jedi Master to show up in their class today - Qui-Gon Jinn was here to observe the Senior Initiates and choose a Padawan! Somebody must have caught his eye the day before and now he had come to take a closer look at the Initiate of his choice.

The thought caused a warm wave of hope to surge through Obi-Wan, leaving him breathless but full of energy. For a few precious seconds he felt like everything was possible and all his dreams were within his reach. He just had to reach out and snatch them. Then reality inevitably caught up with him, the painful memory of his conversation with Master Jinn from the night before dousing the flickering flame of his hope with ice cold realization that left only bitterness and pain behind. Qui-Gon Jinn might be here to look for a Padawan, but he sure as hell was not here for Obi-Wan, no matter how much Obi-Wan wished for it to be different. The renowned Master had made his opinion of him painfully clear the evening before. He despised him. No, Qui-Gon Jinn was here for somebody else.

But who? Who had managed to impress one of the most renowned Masters of the Order enough for him to break his oath of never teaching a Padawan again?

Obi-Wan turned around and quickly seized up the other students in the room. There were not many Initiates left in this class. Not counting himself, there were only six - no, five - people here who had not yet been chosen by a Master. Aalto had proudly shown off his now adorned learner's braid with the white choosing bead and the bronze bead of the Temple Guards in the morning when he had dramatically swaggered into the Initiate commissary for one last time, flicking his short, adorned braid with every step he took before pretending to suddenly remember that he no longer belonged there and swaggering out again. Bruck's face at having to watch the show had been priceless and that had been enough to stifle any feelings of jealousy that Obi-Wan might have felt otherwise. Aalto was Bruck's loyal crony and not the brightest candle in the Temple, but he was not malicious in nature and an excellent duelist. He would undoubtedly become a good Temple Guard.

With Aalto now being a Padawan, only Obi-Wan, To'lan, Jirad, Garen, Yana and, of course, Bruck remained. Obi-Wan carefully took in the expressions of all of them, but they all appeared to waver between hopeful and doubtful whenever they looked in the direction of Master Jinn. There were no grins or conspiratorial looks being exchanged with their friends.

The only exception was Bruck.

As soon as Obi-Wan's eyes met Bruck's, the other boy smiled, a confident, victorious and smug smile that told Obi-Wan everything he needed to know. He sucked in a sharp breath.

No!

Please sweet Force, let Jinn not be here for Bruck!

If Bruck somehow managed to dupe Qui-Gon Jinn into choosing him as his Padawan, then Obi-Wan would have to throw himself from one of the temple spires. Death would be preferable to the nightmare his life would turn into if that happened. If Bruck thought his position in the Order was finally secure and, even worse, if he had a Master who was as heavily biased against Obi-Wan as Qui-Gon Jinn obviously was, then there would be no holding back for Bruck anymore. Force knew what the boy would do if he could hide behind a Master who believed all his lies about Obi-Wan and he no longer had a reason to fear any severe punishment.

Obi-Wan stared into Bruck's icy pale blue eyes and for the first time since their feud had started about a year ago he didn't feel only anger but also actual fear. A shiver ran down his back in dark foreboding and something in his stomach tightened. Bruck's gaze didn't waver.

No!

Obi-Wan set his jaw and clenched his fist as he returned the look with a steely glare of his own.

He would not be cowed by a bully like Bruck Chun! He would fight back! He would show Qui-Gon Jinn that Bruck was nothing but a liar. He would excel in this class today so that the Jedi Master had to admit that there had been no reason for him to provoke Bruck during the tournament and that maybe he should reconsider choosing him. Obi-Wan would show everybody that he could defeat Bruck fair and square. If necessary, he would do it again and again and again until the last person in the Temple realized that he could be better than Bruck. He had proven it the day before, he could and would do it again!

Obi-Wan whirled around with determination, demonstratively turning his back to Bruck and watched how Master Jinn, who had stood up by now, spoke quietly with Master Drallig, who nodded his agreement to whatever it was that Jinn was saying. Then their teacher turned his attention towards the class and clapped his hands to get their attention. The room immediately fell completely quiet. One could have heard a pin drop.

Obi-Wan listened as Master Drallig announced to the silent students that Master Jinn had agreed to support him as an assistant teacher in this class for the next few lessons. The remaining Initiates immediately straightened and even the Padawans looked excited and quite some of them began to seize up their still unchosen classmates with speculative gazes. Obi-Wan ignored them all and only dug his fingernails deeper into the palms of his hands as he listened to Master Drallig explain the lesson of the day.

"Today we will start with the twenty-fifth Shii-Cho kata, also known as 'dance with the sarlacc'," the lightsaber instructor said in an almost bored voice, like he was simply reading out an inventory list instead of announcing that he was about to teach them an advanced lightsaber kata that was the basis for the first Ataru kata - Master Jinn's preferred form. Master Drallig didn't react to the shocked gasps and excited whispers that declaration caused to ripple through the crowd of students. He only gestured for the students to gather around the training mat he was standing on and ignited his lightsaber in preparation for a demonstration of said kata.

Knowing the drill and brimming with excitement, the young Jedi-in-training almost fell over their own feet as they hurried to obey and tried to snag a good spot for themselves. Obi-Wan grunted as somebody's elbow hit him in the ribs and he was shoved aside and he was forced to contend himself with a place at the back of the crowd. All the pushing and shoving finally draw a sharp, disapproving look from their teacher and people stopped fidgeting immediately. Nobody wanted to be excluded from this lesson due to bad behavior.

"Watch closely. You will see that it relies heavily on the 'sweeping dragon tail' maneuver we have studied during the last few lessons and combines it with several other maneuvers you have learned in the past."

It was when Master Drallig moved fluidly into the standard Shii-Cho opening stance, all eyes in the room trained on him, that somebody brushed against Obi-Wan from behind and hissed into his ear,

"You do not really think you will be able to master this kata and impress Master Jinn, do you,  _Oafy-Wan_? He will choose me as his Padawan, so stay away or you will regret it!"

Obi-Wan stiffened as he felt Bruck's hot breath on the skin of his neck, but before he could come up with a bold reply to the blatant threat, Bruck had already slipped away again, their classmates willingly making room for him so he could claim one of the best spots in the middle of the front row. Fury coiled in Obi-Wan's stomach but he had to contend himself with burning holes into the back of Bruck's white-haired head with nothing but his eyes. However, after a few seconds of glowering at Bruck a tingling sensation crawled up his spine, alerting him to the fact that he was being watched. He turned his head slightly to see Qui-Gon Jinn staring at him with narrowed eyes, his entire posture radiating disapproval. Obi-Wan's stomach sank and he quickly averted his gaze to pull himself together.

He needed to focus!

He forced himself to swallow down his anger and push all thoughts about Bruck to the back of his mind. Instead he focused his attention on Master Drallig who was slowly moving through today's kata on the training mat, strike for strike and step for step, as he explained every move he made. Obi-Wan bit his lip nervously as he watched. It was a short but complicated kata. They had been taught all the attacks, feints and evasive maneuvers, but this combination of swipes, thrusts and fast retreats in combination with the 'sweeping dragon tail' maneuver looked highly sophisticated. The whole sequence relied a lot more on agility and very precise bladework than the other katas Master Drallig had taught them so far. Obi-Wan also had no illusions about the speed this kata was supposed to be performed at. The kata's name said it all: dance with the sarlacc. It was all about attacking swiftly but accurately and then dancing out of the way to avoid any imaginary counterattacks, as if they were fighting a sarlacc and had to avoid its thrashing tentacles.

It was a difficult kata, but that would not stop him from mastering it in record time.

Master Drallig finished his demonstration and Obi-Wan hurried to secure a training mat for himself at the front of the room. That unfortunately meant that he ended up being separated from Bruck by only one other mat, but it was worth it. He checked the power setting on his lightsaber to make sure he was in no danger of accidentally dismembering himself, ignited it and fell into the correct opening stance. His blue lightsaber hummed soothingly in his hands and the familiar sound together with the soothing hum of his kyber crystal in the Force fueled Obi-Wan's determination.

He could do this. He was smaller and less muscular than Bruck which made him more agile and faster. That would be an advantage today and should make it easier to beat his arch-nemesis in this lesson.

Ahead of him, Master Drallig called out the first attack, performing it himself to make things easier and the whole class followed suit. The attack flowed into a quick retreat and then the lesson began in earnest. Together they went slowly through the whole sequence, Master Drallig calling out the names of the different maneuvers as they continued, while Master Jinn moved through the rows of students and corrected mistakes, until they all had the kata memorized.

Then it was all about repetition, repetition and repetition, and when their muscles started to burn so badly they felt like they were about to collapse, they repeated the kata _again._ But Obi-Wan could feel himself improving, even though Master Jinn appeared to do his best to avoid him. It was always Master Drallig who came to him to correct his forms and make him repeat certain sequences until he was satisfied with them.

Almost an hour into the lesson, sweat tickled down Obi-Wan's brow and his sticky tunic clung uncomfortably to his heated skin as he dropped into a low crouch for the umpteenth time to dodge an imaginary blow to his head, all his muscles in tune with the Force to increase his speed and agility. He swept out his leg to kick the feet out from under his imaginary opponent and used the momentum of the movement to make a full turn and get to his feet again while his blade protected his back from any attacks. As soon as he was upright again he lunged forward with Force-enhanced speed and attacked various body parts of the enemy with a series of quick, direct swipes and thrusts to disarm and incapacitate. He parried an imaginative counterattack and finished the kata with a devastating riposte. Panting, he held the final pose for a few seconds, ignoring his burning and protesting muscles, and mentally evaluated his performance. His stance was slightly too wide, unbalancing him a little bit, and he had not returned to the exact middle of the mat as he was supposed to, but he had gotten very close.

His performance was not yet perfect but he was getting closer.

Confident in his progress, he peeked at Bruck from the corner of his eyes.

Surely Bruck wasn't doing as well?

Just as he looked, Bruck was also in the middle of performing the last sequence of the kata, finishing it with a perfect riposte that ended with him coming to a halt exactly on the cross in the center of the mat. His large and muscular body didn't seem to hinder him in the slightest, kriff it, Bruck barely seemed to be out of breath! And of course, Master Jinn chose that exact moment to walk past Bruck. He looked critically at Bruck's posture, gave him a nod and an encouraging smile and carried on.

Bruck's answering grin was radiant.

No, no, no, no, no!

Obi-Wan's grip around his lightsaber hilt involuntarily tightened and his stomach rolled with fear.

This simply couldn't be happening!

Master Jinn proceeded to walk into his direction, and Obi-Wan quickly gave up his pose, stepped onto the cross on his own mat and started to go through the kata again, putting everything he had into his performance and examining every movement in his head before he made it. His heart raced in anxious anticipation as Master Jinn corrected the posture of the Padawan right next to him and it felt like his heart was about to pound straight out of his chest as the Jedi Master came even closer.

Obi-Wan doubled his efforts.

Master Jinn walked right past him with barely a glance.

Obi-Wan stumbled and fell on all fours, panting and his muscles trembling with exhaustion as he lost his concentration and with it his connection to the Force. Master Jinn turned, saw him sprawled on the floor, raised an eyebrow and walked away again. On Obi-Wan's other side, Bruck flashed him a triumphant smirk before quickly returning to his own exercise to avoid being noticed. Obi-Wan felt his face heat up in humiliation and fury. Still, he picked himself up from the floor, straightened his clothes and threw himself into the kata again, pretending that nothing had happened.

He would not give up. He simply refused to give up! Master Jinn _had_ to acknowledge that Obi-Wan was not worthless, that Bruck had been lying when he had accused Obi-Wan of having to resort to cheating in the tournament. It was the only hope he had left.

Another half an hour passed, and Obi-Wan worked harder than ever before. In his mind, he didn't perform a kata but fought against Bruck. It was Bruck's attacks that he dodged, Bruck's limbs that he severed, and Bruck's chest that he pierced with his lightsaber. He used the image to energize himself as his body tired and began to scream its complaints at him, making it harder and harder to use the Force and push past his physical limits.

Still, it was not enough. Master Jinn barely ever looked in his direction, and when he did, then he did it with narrowed eyes full of silent accusation.

Finally, Master Drallig called an end to the lesson.

"Enough! Time is up! I will see you tomorrow for our sparring lesson and expect you all to be able to incorporate the 'sweeping dragon tail' in your bouts by then. Class dismissed!"

And just like that, it was over.

Obi-Wan sank to the floor in exhaustion and defeat.

He had failed.

He had not managed to gain Master Jinn's respect.

But Bruck had, as it seemed.

While Obi-Wan lay collapsed on his mat, panting heavily and massaging his trembling muscles just like most of the other students, Bruck strolled up to Master Jinn with a respectful smile on his face. And Master Jinn didn't send him away. Instead, judging from the expressions on their faces, they exchanged a few friendly words and Master Jinn even went as far as to squeeze Bruck's shoulder affectionately, smiling all the while.

Obi-Wan watched them and just felt sick. He no longer had the strength left to feel even angry about the injustice of it all.

Around him people exchanged meaningful looks and conspiratorial whispers at the sight. Obi-Wan closed his eyes in silent dread before pushing himself to his feet and forcing his tired legs to carry him out of the dojo and into the adjourning dressing room. There was no point in risking Bruck getting there before him and try to steal something from his bag. It wouldn't be the first time. Not that Obi-Wan was so stupid as to leave anything important in his gym bag. He had learned his lesson in that regard. Though, perhaps Bruck would be more careful and back off a little bit, now that he was apparently about to be chosen as a Padawan. Getting caught stealing could still ruin his chances. Perhaps Obi-Wan should actually hope that Bruck would indeed be stupid and continue to bully him before he was officially chosen.

He stared pensively at his dark gray, standardized gym bag that sported his name in large red letters and hesitated. Then he did something he hadn't done for over a year: he left it sitting on the bench among all the other gym bags and headed for the shower cubicles, carrying only a towel and a set of fresh Initiate robes in his arms. Maybe, just maybe, Bruck would be stupid enough to take the bait and get himself into trouble. Force knew, Obi-Wan was desperate enough to risk it.

He took his time showering, allowing the warm water to sooth his burning muscles and wash away the sweat on his skin. He heard the other students enter, their conversations and laughter echoing loudly in the tiled room. Doors banged, showers were turned on and somebody squeaked, likely because they had been hit by a spray of ice-cold water. People continued to talk and laugh, several of them teasing Bruck about him finally becoming a Padawan. Bruck laughed loudly and yelled back, "It is about time!"

Obi-Wan's heart clenched but he remained in his cubicle and waited in silence.

The sound of water pattering against the tiled floor decreased in volume, more doors banged and the voices slowly faded. Only when everything was silent except for the sound of his own shower that was still running did Obi-Wan turn off the water, dressed in his fresh set of clothes and headed back out into the locker room.

His eyes immediately fell on his gym bag that sat there alone on the bench in the otherwise empty room. He didn't even need to open it to know that his little ploy hadn't worked. Still, he diligently went through its contents. But as expected nothing was damaged or missing. Groaning, Obi-Wan slumped down on the bench and hid his face in his hands.

Bruck Chun was about to become Qui-Gon Jinn's Padawan and there was nothing Obi-Wan could do about it.

He should have realized that something like this could happen, but somehow it had never crossed his mind that somebody might actually choose Bruck. Yet it was apparently about to happen - and Obi-Wan had to figure out how to deal with the fallout.

Before he could start to panic his thoughts were interrupted by a beeping sound that he identified as the message alert of his comm link. More than glad for the distraction, he took out the device and read the message. Then he read it a second time, confused. The automated message told him that he had been excused from his mathematics class the next day, but that made no sense. He had no appointment with the healers or anything similar that warranted an excuse from a class.

He was just about to type a request for clarification when his comm link beeped a second time, signaling another incoming message. Figuring that this message might answer a few of his questions, Obi-Wan opened it, looked at the emblem displayed at the top and felt his heart plummet to the floor. The message had been sent by the Council of Reassignment and told him to appear before said Council at ninth bell the next morning to discuss his impending thirteenth birthday and reassignment to the Jedi Service Corps.


	12. Search for a Master

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a lot of Angst in this chapter - again. Sorry, I simply can't help it.

Obi-Wan went through the rest of his day in a daze. He attended the rest of his afternoon classes, got punched straight into his face during his evening martial arts training and then forced himself to eat dinner, but he didn't really pay attention to anything that he did. Instead the comlink in his pocket seemed to be determined to burn a hole into his clothes. Never before had he been so aware of the small weight that bumped against his thigh with every step he took. Now it suddenly felt like a chrono was counting down the time he had left as a Jedi by pounding steadily against his leg.

He was still picking at the remnants of his tasteless evening meal when the temple bell rang twentieth hour, finally announcing the beginning of his official leisure time and shaking him out of his stupor.

Sitting here and staring at his food wouldn't get him anywhere.

He took a deep breath and got up from his table.

It was time. He could still prevent this all from happening. He only had to talk to N'tig'hula and Sato and convince one of them to choose him. Easy. He would just walk to their door and ask them whether they had some time for him. If he then managed to be allowed into their quarters and perhaps get them to offer him tea, then he had already won half the battle. A little smalltalk to break the ice and then he would slowly steer the conversation towards their work, his own good grades in subjects relevant to their work and finally the topic 'Padawan'. Yes, that was a good plan. Now he only had to execute it.

Knight Sato was a diplomat. He would ask her first.

Obi-Wan took out his datapad, rechecked with the Temple's datanet that he had memorized the right room number and then he was on his way to the Knights' Billet. Getting there meant traversing half the Temple and should have taken quite a while and yet it seemed like Obi-Wan had only blinked once and then he was already there. One moment he was waiting for a turbolift, the next second he stood in front of a nondescript light gray door that looked exactly like all the other light gray doors in just another undecorated off-white residence corridor whose glowplast walls were growing dull as the Temple went into its night circle.

Obi-Wan stared at the door in the darkening corridor and quickly wiped his sweaty hands on his leggings. He nervously licked his lips before extending a trembling hand towards the door chime, only to hesitate just before touching it.

Perhaps he should wait another day and do some more research? What if he said something wrong and ruined his chances just because he had not been properly prepared?

He scoffed at his own stupidity. _'Really, Obi-Wan? The Council of Reassignment is already breathing down your neck. Stop this pointless procrastinating and just do it!'_

His finger hit the door chime and he quickly jerked his hand back as a ringing sound disrupted the silence of the empty corridor around him. Suddenly worried that he didn't look like respectable Padawan-material, he quickly smoothed down his hair and straightened his tunics as best he could while he waited. He didn't have to wait long. The door swished open within about ten seconds and he looked into the surprised face of Jedi Knight Aiyo Sato.

"Initiate Kenobi?" She sounded baffled but not put off, giving Obi-Wan new hope that he might actually succeed in his quest.

He gave her his best winning smile and a respectful bow.

"Good evening, Knight Sato. I hope I am not disturbing you. Do you have a few minutes?"

She hesitated and Obi-Wan's heart rate doubled with anxiety. But then she relented.

"Of course, come on in." She stepped aside and gestured for him to enter her quarters. Almost sagging with relief, Obi-Wan complied hastily and stepped into the dimly lit one-room apartment. It did not look like what he had expected.

The apartments in the Knights' Billet were the home of young Knights who barely ever returned to the Temple between missions, and they were supposed to be small and austere. However, this apartment was much bigger than the descriptions had led him to believe, it was at least double the size of his own, simple room in the Initiates' Wing. Plus, while it was not luxurious, it looked comfortable.

The bed was tugged away in a corner, next to the door to the fresher, and was mostly hidden from view behind a large wooden shelf unit that displayed holo books as well as several mementos, ranging from a collection of various sea shells, to small, hand-carved wooden statues and pictures of Knight Sato together with various other people. A gleaming kitchen unit and counter took up most of the space along the wall to his right, while the center of the room was dominated by a low, wooden table in the traditional style of the old Order, surrounded by a comfortable looking couch and a set of seating cushions in a warm shade of light brown. On his left, next to the desk and the only window, he recognized the series of old-fashioned sliding doors that masqueraded as part of the off-white wall from the closet in his own room. The only piece of colorful decoration was a large rug in various shades of soft violet that lay in the center of the living area.

It was a nice apartment. Tidy, well-organized and tastefully furnished. One could tell a lot about a person by looking at how they lived, and Obi-Wan liked this small apartment immediately. Knight Sato was obviously a diligent Jedi who did not indulge in vices, but she also didn't slavishly follow the Order's rules about attachment and possessions. She was still a human being. Yes, Obi-Wan had a good feeling about this.

He settled down on one of the seating cushions while the fine-boned human woman sat on the couch opposite him.

"What can I do for you, Initiate Kenobi?"

Obi-Wan opened his dry mouth to formulate a reply, his nervousness skyrocketing again as Knight Sato got straight to the point. He had to phrase this carefully in order to not appear to be too audacious and blunt and preferably steer the conversation towards less delicate topics first. However, he forgot what he was about to say as he got a glimpse of what lay outside the window. His jaw dropped in awe.

"Is that a bioluminescent jungle out there?" He could hear the disbelief in his own voice, his nervousness momentarily forgotten and replaced by fascination.

Knight Sato followed his gaze and the corners of her almond-shaped eyes crinkled with amusement as she smiled at him.

"Yes. I am one of the lucky few members of a non-nocturnal species whose apartment overlooks one of our more interesting indoor gardens. It contains bioluminescent lifeforms from everywhere around the galaxy and the light show during the night hours is quite impressive."

Obi-Wan nodded, stunned. Yes, what he saw was definitely impressive. The exotic jungle in the already dark garden resembled a beautiful, living painting that pulsed and glowed softly in various shades of blue, green and violet. It was like looking at a living piece of art. Now he also understood why the lights in the apartment were set to such a low setting. Too much light would only ruin the view.

"I think if I had such a view I would spend all my evenings sitting at my desk under that window, simply staring out of it," he said breathlessly.

She laughed. She had a nice laugh, high and clear and friendly. The last traces of Obi-Wan's nervousness vanished and he relaxed. He got this. And he had just found a good topic for smalltalk.

"Oh, I know that feeling," she agreed. "It is astounding how much time one can spend simply gazing out of the window instead of working or sleeping. Some nights it is so bad that I have to close the window shades and work here on the couch with my back turned instead of at the desk just to be able to withstand the temptation." She gave him an amused look. "I take it, the view from your own room is somewhat less captivating?"

Obi-Wan grimaced.

"You could say that. My room overlooks a desert garden. It contains only sand, stones and the occasional cactus or withered shrub."

"Really? Well, that is still better than what I could see from my Initiate room once upon a time. My room faced an arctic 'garden'. The only plants it contained were some lichens clinging to a piece of rock. Though I have to admit, watching the artificial snow storms howling right outside of my room could be interesting once in a while."

Obi-Wan nodded in understanding.

"Well, I would say your current view counts as an adequate compensation for your past suffering."

She laughed again.

"Yes, I think that is true. But you didn't come here to talk with me about the Temple's many gardens, did you?" Her voice was gentle and the look in her dark eyes was friendly and understanding, but Obi-Wan was sure there was something else there, something that looked suspiciously like regret or even pity as she cut right back to her original topic. His anxiety returned with a vengeance.

She knew why he was here.

Surely, she wouldn't simply turn him away without giving him at least the chance to argue his case? He only needed an opportunity to talk with her a little bit, to show her that he was not the violent and stupid bully that people liked to paint him as. But while the expression on her face was friendly and open, there was something about her Force presence that told him that she had already made up her mind. It was too distant, too carefully guarded.

She didn't want him, she was just too polite to say it outright.

Obi-Wan's throat tightened painfully and he was incapable of speaking, his mouth suddenly dry again. He tried anyway.

"I..." He trailed off, not knowing how he could still turn this in his favor. But he needed to say something, _anything_ to not squander this chance once and for all, to convince her that he would be a worthy Padawan. Instead he only silently opened and closed his mouth like a fish gasping for air, lost for words. She watched him struggle for a few seconds before relieving him of his suffering.

"You came here to ask me whether I will take you as my Padawan."

It was a statement, not a question and Obi-Wan involuntarily winced at the bluntness of it. He wanted to deflect the question and buy himself time, but knew that it would be useless now. So he braced himself and nodded sharply, not quite meeting her eyes as a part of him desperately clung to the last shreds of his hope that she would somehow still say 'yes, of course I will take you as my Padawan'. But as he had feared that was not what happened.

"I am sorry, Initiate, but I cannot take you as my Padawan."

He had known it was coming, but the rejection still felt like a punch straight into his gut. It was a sharp, crippling pain that made it impossible to breathe. He sucked in a sharp breath.

"May I ask why?" His voice sounded thick and hoarse, almost not like his own. He quickly cleared his throat and coughed to cover up the moment of weakness.

Knight Sato sighed and she ran a hand through her plaited black hair.

"I have considered choosing you," she admitted, "but then I talked with several people who spend more time in the Temple than I do, people I respect and trust, and their opinion of you is not very high. You have quite a reputation, Initiate Kenobi, and it is not very flattering."

Obi-Wan stiffened and his answer was sharper than he had intended.

"A Jedi should not judge another sentient only by their reputation!"

She remained calm, her eyes and voice steady as she looked directly into his eyes.

"No, but we should listen to the advice given to us by our more experienced elders and we should trust in the judgment of our teachers. Besides, I have read your official file, Initiate, and it confirms what is said about you. I do not say that you are a bad person, but you have a problem with controlling your negative emotions and that is disastrous for a Jedi Knight. Perhaps a more accomplished Master who has experience with training Padawans can teach you, but I am not that person. I have been Knighted only three years ago, I would do neither of us a favor if I chose you. I am sorry, Initiate Kenobi."

Of course it would be like this. No matter what he did, no matter how hard he fought, his reputation and his blasted disciplinary record would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Obi-Wan struggled to keep his breathing from hitching and his burning eyes from tearing up. He did his best to compose his face into a facade of mature acceptance, even if it was flimsi-thin. The last thing he needed right now was to break down in tears right in front of a Jedi Knight who had just rejected him because he had trouble with controlling his emotions. He stood abruptly and hid his pain behind the comforting mantle of formality and the starchiest reply he could come up with.

"Thank you, Knight Sato, for considering me as a possible candidate for an apprenticeship with you and for your honesty. I shall take your words to heart and endeavor to improve my conduct in the future. May the Force be with you."

He bowed formally in farewell. She nodded her head in formal reply.

"And with you, Initiate Kenobi."

Obi-Wan turned on his heels and marched out of her quarters with his head held high and his chin jutted out. He even managed to keep up the facade of strength and dignity until he found a dark niche next to some ancient statue in a mostly empty side corridor somewhere outside the Knights' Billet.

Obi-Wan sank down on the low pedestal the statue was placed on and did his best to merge with the shadows behind the statue, for once glad that the gray Initiate uniform made it easy for him to be overlooked as he pressed himself deeply into the dark nook.

Night had fallen on Coruscant, and the illumination level in the corridors, halls and gardens of the Temple had adapted automatically, the glowplast walls dimmed down to the minimum level, causing the shadows in the corridors to lengthen and the halls to grow increasingly darker except for the areas lit by the occasional lamp.

_'Breathe, Obi-Wan,'_  he reminded himself.  _'Breathe and let it go. There is no emotion, there is peace. Just let it go and then get up and talk to N'tig'hula.'_

So he breathed, using one of the simple grounding exercises from his days in the crèche to keep himself from tearing up.

Deep breaths.

Breath in, count to four and breath out. Count to four again and repeat.

Perhaps his breathing was a little bit uneven, and perhaps his shoulders shook a little bit, but he managed to mostly keep himself together.

He would just ask N'tig'hula and things would be fine.

A few people walked past him through the dark corridor, going about their own business and not noticing him as he cowered there in the shadows. Obi-Wan listened to the soft echoes of their approaching and fading footsteps and counted in rhythm with their steps.

When he finally thought he had regained his composure enough to talk to his second prospective Master - his last hope! - he took out his datapad, activated it and looked up Master N'tig'hula's room designation. He remembered it being somewhere in the west wing where most of the older Knights and younger Masters without Padawans lived but couldn't recall the right floor. The Temple's datanet processed his request within two seconds and the room designation appeared on the softly glowing screen. Obi-Wan read the short sequence of letters and numbers and blinked in confusion. That was not even close to the room designation he remembered, that was in the south wing where -

His train of thought came to a crashing halt as he realized what that room designation signified. With trembling fingers and desperately praying that he was wrong, Obi-Wan sent a request for the names of the inhabitants of apartment S23G380 and stared impatiently at the emblem of the Jedi Order that rotated slowly on the display, mocking him, while the datanet checked his clearance and processed his request.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

The emblem vanished and two names appeared in its stead: Master N'tig'hula and Padawan Anniya Koden.

Obi-Wan stared at the second name and the title that came with it. He stared and stared, and then he stared some more. He didn't want to believe what he was seeing, but there was no denying it.

He was too late.

With a pained howl Obi-Wan threw the datapad across the empty corridor and at the opposite wall with all the strength he had. The pad hit the wall with a bang before clattering loudly down to the floor, its cracked display flickering and going out. Obi-Wan watched with grim satisfaction, glad that he could take out his frustration and increasing desperation on _something_. However, the satisfaction was quickly replaced by guilt and then shame. A Jedi shouldn't react like this. A Jedi should accept such setbacks with composure and dignity and then simply carry on. It was no wonder nobody wanted him, he couldn't even keep his temper in check around an inanimate object like a datapad, much less in the company of a bully like Bruck.

_'You have a problem with controlling your negative emotions and that is disastrous for a Jedi Knight._ '

Knight Sato's words replayed in his head and he hated them, hated her, and he hated himself because deep down he knew that she was right. A Jedi Knight couldn't afford to explode like this on a mission, no matter the circumstances. Lives might depend on his ability to keep his head even in the most severe of situations.

The comlink in his pocket felt heavy and hot as it pressed against his leg, like a stone that had been tied to his feet and was now dragging him down into the depth of a bottomless ocean of hopelessness.

Tomorrow he would have to stand before the Council of Reassignment and face their judgment. And for the first time he was not sure whether he still had the strength left to fight them. There was no light at the end of this tunnel, only more darkness.

Perhaps he should simply give up, accept his reassignment to the Service Corps and be done with it. Perhaps he really was a hopeless failure. At least in the Service Corps he would hopefully be sent to a Corps facility somewhere far away from the Temple where he would never have to see Bruck again, even if that meant that the only thing he ever achieved in his life would be to grow food for his betters in the Temple.

Obi-Wan curled up in his dark nook and allowed himself to be swallowed by the shadows.


	13. Bant to the Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter without Angst! I am very proud of myself. One could even almost consider this to be fluff. Perhaps there is still hope for me.
> 
> I have also decided to split this story into two parts because this is getting much longer than originally intended. But it takes time (and a lot of words) to develop the relationship between people, especially Bant and Obi-Wan, properly. Therefore, the whole Xanatos/Bandomeer arc will get its own follow-up story.

"Force, you look horrible! What happened?" The words were out of Bant's mouth before she could think about them, but they were true. Kenobi was a mess. His entire attire was rumpled, his eyes were red-rimmed like he hadn't slept a minute during the last night and to top it off, one of his eyes was adorned by an impressive black bruise. In short, he looked like he had been run over and stomped into the ground by a furious reek.

At her exclamation Kenobi stopped picking listlessly at his morning meal and looked up at her, surprise in his tired eyes as he saw her standing there with a filled tray in her hands.

"Bant? What are you doing here?"

She pointedly put down her tray on the table.

"This is the commissary, so I guess that means that I am here to eat my morning meal, and you didn't answer my question." She plopped down into the chair opposite him, doing her best to ignore the puzzled gazes aimed at her from the tables around them. Instead she focused her attention on the older boy sitting opposite her.

Kenobi stared first at her tray and then at Bant herself, his expression changing from confusion into something that was almost alarm.

"You shouldn't sit with me Bant, not here in public. Go sit with your friends or you will only end up being an outcast, too."

Bant fidgeted uneasily on her chair, the speculative gazes of the people around them suddenly burning uncomfortably into her back, but she remained seated. She was supposed to act the part of his friend, and friends ate together. Besides, Bruck would make sure everybody knew she had not really been Kenobi's friend when this was all over. She would manage.

Bant resolutely picked up her folk and spiked a piece of steamed kelp.

"I am sitting with a friend. If the others have an issue with my seat selection, then that is there problem, not mine. I am going to be fine. And you _still_ haven't answered my question. You look like you had a wrestling match with a rancor. Did you have to do the obstacle course during morning training and ended up running straight into a swinging beam?" She pointed her folk with kelp at his black eye.

Kenobi's lips twitched upward.

"No, but I guess getting punched by a Wookiee is a comparable experience." Bant winced. Yes, that wouldn't be so different. Kenobi continued, "I was a little bit distracted during combat training yesterday evening and now I am paying the price for it. I will survive, though, it is only a black eye. And you really shouldn't point with your fork at people like this. If one of the Docents sees you, you will get an hour-long lecture about proper table manners."

Bant grimaced but acceded his point and quickly put the offending eating utensil into her mouth, only to scrunch up her nose in disgust at the bland taste of the kelp.

Ugh, somebody should tell the maintenance staff to reprogram the kitchen droids. Those things obviously didn't know the meaning of the word 'seasoning'.

She rectified the mistake by adding a generous portion of fish juice to the bowl. The next bit of kelp tasted much better and Bant smacked her lips in appreciation. Kenobi emitted a strange coughing noise that sounded suspiciously like he was trying not to retch. She narrowed her eyes at him, bracing herself for the usual expressions of disgust and attempts to convince her to try some 'real' or 'civilized' food that didn't smell like rotten fish. However, Kenobi surprised her. The look he gave her was apologetic, not disgusted like she was used to.

"Sorry, my stomach is a little bit queasy today." That was all he said, and he did indeed look rather pale, even for a pale-skinned human.

Despite herself Bant felt the first stirrings of worry for him.

"Are you ill? You don't look very good." And he really didn't. The usual fire in his eyes was conspicuously absent and the punch to his face didn't explain why his eyes were red-rimmed, why he looked so rumpled or why he had barely touched his food.

Kenobi stayed silent for so long she began to think he wouldn't answer her at all, but then he said quietly,

"No, I am not ill. But my attempts at finding a Master yesterday have failed miserably and now I have an appointment with the Council of Reassignment in -" he glanced at the wall chrono, "- forty minutes, to 'discuss my impending reassignment to the Service Corps'," he emphasized the last phrase with air quotes to signal he was reciting an official message, "and I am afraid that has ruined my mood somewhat."

"Oh..." Bant didn't know what to say to that. She should be delighted that his attempt at stealing Master Jinn had apparently failed and that he was about to be sent away early, but Bant just couldn't bring herself to be that malicious, not when he was obviously miserable.

Kenobi returned to playing with his food.

"Yes, indeed 'oh'." He sounded and looked exhausted, even defeated, and Bant could feel the guilt gnaw at her.

She should just leave it at that and let him get skewered by the Council of Reassignment, but she could all too well imagine what it was like to stand before those five Masters, alone, and be told that one was unworthy. It was the worst fear of every Initiate and she had had enough nightmares about failing the lightsaber part of her Initiate Trials and join the 'Loser League' to have an inkling of how he felt.

She should just assure him that everything would be fine, recite some hollow Jedi maxim about the Will of the Force and be done with it.

But... he had saved her from detention and being officially reprimanded for skipping meditation only the day before. He could have just told Master Nu the truth and let her get punished, especially since she had not exactly been nice to him until up to that point. A real bully would have done that.

But he hadn't. Instead he had been nice to her. Perhaps there was more to him than she had originally thought.

She owed him, and a friend would try to help in a situation like this, especially as Kenobi still had almost a month left before his thirteenth birthday. He shouldn't be reassigned yet. It just wasn't fair.

Besides, she had promised Bruck that she would spy on Kenobi and warn him if Kenobi was up to no good, not to make life unpleasant for him. The Council of Reassignment had nothing to do with her spying job, so it was absolutely okay for her to try and increase Kenobi's chances of arguing his way out of this. That didn't mean that she was taking his side or that a part of her kind of, sort of, liked him (just a little bit). And a Jedi was supposed to show compassion even for the unworthy. She would just be doing her duty as a Jedi by helping him.

But Bruck wouldn't be happy about it...

She bit her lip in indecision. Kenobi continued to stare at his barely touched food like he was contemplating trying to drown himself in his bowl of cereals and the silence hang heavy and gloomily around the both of them.

_'Oh, kriff it!_

Bant threw her fork down and into her bowl of kelp, causing dark drops of fish juice to fly in all directions and stain the table and probably her attire, too. Kenobi started, finally looking up from his own food to blink at her in confusion. Bant shoved back her chair and stood up, her indecision replaced by determination.

"Let's go!"

Kenobi only stared at her in incomprehension.

"What?"

She rolled her eyes at him and rounded the table. Kenobi yelped in surprise as she grabbed him by his outer tunic and more or less yanked him out of his chair. He sputtered some kind of baffled protest or perhaps it was a demand for an explanation but Bant honestly didn't care. She only dragged him after her towards the exit of the commissary, leaving both of their trays with food forgotten behind them and ignoring the stares they attracted as they hurried - or in his case stumbled - out of the room.

"Bant! What -"

Bant didn't let him finish.

"I am trying to help you. Now be quiet and keep moving! We are on a timetable here."

That shut him up, even if it was likely only out of shock and confusion. Bant walked faster, refusing to release her grip on him as she turned them towards the part of the Initiates' wing where the Senior Initiates were housed.

They had a lot of work to do and less than forty minutes to get it done.

 

***

 

Obi-Wan could only gawk at the little Mon Calamari girl as she hauled him through the corridors of the Temple with surprising strength.

What in all ten Corellian hells?!

He was dragged around another corner and Bant finally released him as she stopped at a junction. Obi-Wan stumbled to a halt next to her and opened his mouth to demand an explanation, however Bant would have none of it.

"What is your room number?" she demanded.

"What? Why do you -"

"Where is your room?" she repeated, sounding just a tick impatient.

Obi-Wan gave up and just told her.

"NI37A292."

Bant grunted in confirmation, renewed her grip on him and off they were again, with Obi-Wan feeling just a little bit like a rag doll as he was lugged around the Temple like he couldn't be trusted to find the way on his own. They arrived at his room and gestured for Obi-Wan to palm the door open. Obi-Wan was still too stunned to argue and put his hand on the door plate to unlock the door without further argument. Bant immediately marched into his room and headed straight towards his closet.

Obi-Wan followed warily.

"Are you finally going to tell me what you are up to?"

Bant gave him an incredulous look like that was absolutely obvious.

"You look like an absolute mess. You cannot go to the Council of Reassignment like this. If you want to stand a chance to successfully argue your case, you need to look the part of a good little Initiate who will make a perfect Padawan and this," she waved her hand in his direction, "will definitely not do. So you are going to change into a fresh and _pressed_  set of Initiate clothes and -" she cut herself off as she opened the door to his almost empty closet. "Why are there no fresh robes in your closet?" Her tone was accusing, almost offended, and she glared at him like he had committed some kind of horrendous crime.

Obi-Wan felt just a little bit defensive.

"Um, I had a lot on my mind recently with the tournament and all, and I might have forgotten to bring my dirty clothes to the laundry room?"

Bant gawked at him for about two seconds, then she threw her hands up in despair.

"Great, now I have to get you fresh clothes, too? _Seriously_?!"

A part of Obi-Wan wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, another part felt his heart warm with the realization that there was still somebody who cared about him at all, however the biggest part of him knew that it was all hopeless anyway. So why bother?

He tried to convey that to Bant, who was muttering under her breath as she rummaged through the drawers of his closet.

"Bant, it is very kind of you to try and help me, but there is no point to it. The council is going to send me away and even if they don't do it today, it won't really matter in a few weeks anyway." There was a lump forming in his throat and his voice turned hoarse. "I am a failure with a meters long disciplinary record and a reputation for being a bully. There is nobody left who might choose me as a Padawan and even my oldest friends have abandoned me by now. Just leave it and go back to the commissary. Salvage your own reputation as long as you still can or you will only end up like me."

Bant whirled around and pointed a finger at him.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi, shut up! You are infamous for never backing down, for fighting even when you shouldn't. Where has that stubborn determination gone, hmm?"

Obi-Wan just felt tired and slumped down on his unmade bed.

"I no longer have any strength left to fight, Bant. I have fought and fought and it was all for nothing. I wouldn't let Bruck bully me without a fight and now I have a reputation of being a bully myself. I have fought to show them that I am more than a vicious thug in the tournament and now people are convinced that I must have cheated. I went to talk with a potential Master and was turned away because of the reputation my fighting has given me. Fighting does not get you anywhere, Bant. Fighting is pointless."

Bant emitted a noise of frustration, marched up to him and started shaking him by the collar of his outer tunic.

"Do you really think giving up will make things any better?! The only thing you are doing right now is prove everybody who said that you are a loser right. So stop wallowing in self-pity, get up and _fight_! You still have almost a month left, you can use this time to literally ask _every_ unbound Knight and Master in the Temple to choose you. Maybe they will say no, maybe you will fail, but then you will at least never have to look back and think 'what if'. What do you have left to lose, hmm, your _reputation_?"

Obi-Wan finally managed to dislodge Bant from his tunic and grab her hands with his own, forcing her to hold still.

"Bant..."

Bant glared daggers at him.

"What do you have to lose?" she repeated.

"I..." Obi-Wan had to close his mouth without finishing the sentence. He didn't have a good answer to that.

What did he have to lose?

Definitely not his reputation.

His dignity?

He would lose his dignity either way and if he had to choose, then he would rather lose his dignity by begging for a chance.

He looked into Bant's determined face and felt his own resolve return and harden into durasteel. It was too soon to just give up. He still had twenty-eight days left to fulfill his dream and he would fight for every single one of them.

He let go of Bant's wrists.

"All right. Let's do this."

Bant nodded, her face determined.

"Good. Now, start thinking about a strategy on how to deal with the council. I will organize some make-up to hide that black eye and some fresh clothes. We have about thirty minutes."

Then she raced out of the room so fast that Obi-Wan could only blink at the door closing behind her.

Blast, that girl was a force of nature!

But that was a thought for later. He had work to do.

He grabbed the datapad from his desk and started to do some very quick research on the procedure of reassignment. His fingers trembled slightly and the cracks that ran through the display of the pad were not helpful either, but it would have to do. It was better than nothing.

Obi-Wan worked as quickly as he could, but he had to skim over most of the rather vague information texts he found on the datanet. Still, he got a rough picture of what to expect, and was able to come up with a few points in his favor that he could make.

He was in the middle of reading through some legal text about the Oder's legal obligations towards its underaged charges when Bant burst back into the room, breathing heavily and clutching a small suitcase as well as several garment bags to her chest. Obi-Wan glanced at his chrono. They had fourteen minutes.

He spent the next nine minutes getting prodded, yanked at and criticized until Bant was satisfied with his appearance. His frayed learner's braid was neatly redone, his hair combed, the freshly pressed (and slightly too large) robes and leggings had not one crease in them, and his leather boots could almost be used as a mirror. Even the black eye and the bags under his eyes had miraculously vanished thanks to the contents of the little suitcase which turned out to contain all kind of make-up for undercover operations. All in all, Obi-Wan barely recognized himself when he finally looked into the large mirror at the wall of his room. Instead of 'Oafy-Wan' he saw an exemplary Senior Initiate staring back at him who had not one hair out of place.

"Bant you are a miracle worker," he said breathlessly.

Bant grunted, but she looked rather satisfied with herself.

"Yes, I know. Now, hurry or you will be late!" She made shooing motions with her hands to get him moving, not daring to touch him so as not to dishevel him again, and Obi-Wan obediently jogged out of the room, Bant following on his heels. They hurried down the corridor and into the direction of the northeast tower where the Council of Reassignment met.

"By the way, how did you get all this stuff?" Obi-Wan asked as they turned a corner. "I don't know who Leta Tallish is, but I am pretty sure she didn't just hand over her clothes to you."

Beside him Bant huffed.

"Believe me you don't want to know. Let's just say, I now have to take over a certain Padawan's crèche duty next weekend and perhaps be well advised to avoid the droids in the laundry room for a while."

Obi-Wan could feel his face split into a wide, reckless grin.

"Are you telling me that you stole these clothes from the laundry room?"

"I didn't steal them, I borrowed them," Bant snapped back. "You will give them back tonight  _and_ you will return the make-up case, too. Force knows, I can do without having to deal with Quinlan Vos a second time today."

They arrived at the intersection where their ways would part. Obi-Wan stopped and impulsively hugged the girl.

"Thank you, Bant," he mumbled into her tunic. She smelled alien, like a mixture of salt, water and something organic. Obi-Wan imagined it was the smell of Mon Cala's oceans. When he let go, Bant's salmon skin had darkened to a deep pink and she looked a little bit flustered. She also seemed lost for words, something that was likely a very rare occurrence. "You should hurry or I won't be the only one who is late."

Bant took one look at the time, paled and with a quick nod hurried away in the direction of the Halls of Learning, while Obi-Wan continued on his way towards the northeast tower.

He would give the Council of Reassignment one hell of a fight, not only for his own sake, but also for Bant's. There was no way he would abandon his new friend and leave her at Bruck's mercy, not after what she had just done for him and no matter what it would cost him.


	14. Council of Reassignment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this awesome scene in my head in which Obi-Wan turns into a little version of the 'Negotiator', verbally eviscerates the Council of Reassignment, and they end up pretty much apologizing for ever daring to consider sending him to the Service Corps. But as soon as I tried to write it down, it felt absolutely wrong. There was no way five high-ranking Jedi Masters would argue with a child and then bow to his 'wisdom'. (It also didn't help that I am hardly a talented diplomat myself.) 
> 
> It got so bad, I honestly considered to skip this whole scene and simply start the next chapter with telling you, 'yes, that council scene I have been teasing you with happened, you know... off-screen... somewhere... Please, don't kill me!'
> 
> But that kind of sucked, so I reopened my tattered, old copy of 'The Rising Force' to find inspiration and get Obi-Wan some help; hence Master Vant (sounds almost like Bant, but I swear the character really exists and is totally not related to Bant in any way).
> 
> I am still far from happy with this chapter and it went completely off the rail from where I wanted it to go, but I am sick of constantly rewriting it, so you have to deal with this version even if the arguments made in it are still full of holes. *cough, cough* Suspension of disbelief? *author makes puppy eyes*
> 
> BTW: my headcanon: age of maturity in the SW 'verse is 13 (for humans) because reassignment to the Jedi Service Corps, Padme as Queen and Ahsoka as a soldier at very young ages make no sense otherwise.

It was exactly fifteen seconds before ninth bell when Obi-Wan stepped out of the turbolift at the top of the northeast tower, slightly out of breath and with a queasy stomach, but determined. He quickly rechecked his appearance one last time in one of the large, room-high windows of the small antechamber, but ignored the breathtaking view of Coruscant and the Temple rooftop far bellow him. Instead he turned towards the still closed double doors that would admit him into the chamber of the Council of Reassignment and resigned himself to waiting.

He didn't have to wait long. It took only a few seconds before the tall doors slid open and he found himself face to face with the Council of Reassignment - as well as his Docent, Master Vant, who was already standing in the middle of the semicircle of five council members, waiting for him to join her.

At least he would not have to face this nightmare alone.

With his heart beating furiously in his chest, Obi-Wan forced his reluctant legs to carry him into the room and quickly sought refuge at the side of the blue-skinned Twi'lek woman who had been his caretaker since he had left the crèche. She gave him an encouraging smile and Obi-Wan tried to return the gesture, but his facial muscles seemed to have forgotten how to create such an expression, and he quickly gave up on the hopeless endeavor.

Instead he turned away and tried to gauge the mood of the council members. However, their masks of professional indifference were impenetrable. Still, Obi-Wan couldn't shake the feeling that they were judging him and found him wanting. With a quick prayer for strength, he did his best to set his own face into a bland, respectful mask and bowed politely towards the five Jedi Masters who were about to decide his fate.

They would not manage to make him feel guilty or unworthy. He hadn't done anything wrong, at least not this time. He didn't know what lie Bruck had told them this time, but they had no valid reason to send him away before his birthday.

He would fight his way out of this. This was just like any other negotiation exercise in class, and he was good in those.

Master Vant put a comforting hand on his shoulder and Obi-Wan realized that he had instinctively shifted into a battle stance. He consciously relaxed his coiled muscles until his posture could pass for casual again.

It was not yet his turn to speak, and he needed to get the whole picture before starting to argue his case, anyway. So he swallowed down the protests and questions that sat on the tip of his tongue and waited for the council to address him.

Master Giett finally broke the tense silence. "Initiate Kenobi, thank you for responding to our summons." Obi-Wan almost scoffed at that. Were they really going to pretend that he had had a choice in that matter? "You have been called before this council today to discuss your impending thirteenth birthday and transfer to the Service Corps. You still have a month left before you come of age, but your recent academic performances have given us reason to worry, so we have decided to intervene now before your education suffers even further."

Obi-Wan blinked and had trouble to keep his surprise and confusion from showing on his face.

His academic performances?

What had his 'academic performance' to do with his birthday or the Service Corps?

"Forgive me, Master Giett," he said as politely as possible. "but I do not understand."

The elderly Zabrak Master sitting next to Master Giett pushed a button on the armrest of her seat and a large hologram popped into existence right in front of Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan stared warily at the slowly rotating depiction of some kind of official record. Then his eyes landed on the picture in the right upper corner - his picture. His eyes widened in realization. That were his official records.

Master Ysho enlarged a section of the file with a wave of her hand and Obi-Wan's eyes zeroed in on the magnified table that showed his grades. Most of his grades were not outstanding, but they were not as bad as to warrant being called before the Council of Reassignment either. His gaze traveled slowly down the column with scores and evaluations until it landed on a number almost at the bottom of the table.

He sucked in a breath.

Oh, no...

Master Ysho's next words proved the bad feeling in his gut right.

"You have failed another astronavigation test just yesterday, Initiate Kenobi, and your teacher has recommended for you to be reassigned to the remedial class immediately. In addition, Master Bouri has also recently expressed his concerns about your continuing problems in his physics class, especially after you failed to produce a working model of a simple repulsorlift engine. Which means that you now overall have to attend remedial classes in four subjects. Four! And three of these are mandatory classes you have to pass in order to earn your General Education Diploma at the end of the school year. If things continue like this, you will end up being a washout without an officially recognized degree and not even the qualification necessary to get a basic license for piloting spacecrafts through hyperspace."

Obi-Wan's heart beat painfully against his ribs as he listened to this brutal summary of all his academic failings. There was no point in arguing that Bruck had sabotaged his project, nobody would believe him, and his physics grades were admittedly not that great. He had always focused more on the subjects that were important for a Jedi Knight. And astronavigation, well... Who needed astronavigation? Spaceships had navigation computers and astromech droids! Still, he was pretty sure Master Ysho wouldn't appreciate that particular argument.

And the councilor was not yet finished. "Considering that this means we have to change your entire schedule and pull you out of part of your Initiate classes anyway, just to make room for those additional lessons and to ensure that you get your degree, and considering that you are scheduled to age out in a month anyway, we have decided to remove you from the Initiate program immediately."

Obi-Wan's brain short-circuited. "What?!" he shouted in shocked disbelief, all thoughts for manners, protocol or negotiation tactics swept aside by sheer horror and indignation at hearing that outrageous justification. "You can't do that! The statutes of the Order clearly state that -"

The grip of Master Vant's hand on his shoulder tightened until her nails dug painfully into his flesh. Obi-Wan stopped yelling mid-sentence, snapped his mouth shut and then gritted his teeth so hard he was sure the entire room could hear them grinding against each other. He didn't want to stop yelling at the council, but he got the message and kept his mouth closed.

Master Vant softened her grip on his shoulder and then narrowed her lined eyes at the council members, her elegant blue lekkus twitching in displeasure.

"With all due respect, Masters, that is an overreaction," she replied, her voice perfectly calm even though her lekkus still twitched once or twice. "I agree that this issue has to be addressed and that it is important for Obi-Wan to get his degree, but if additional remedial lessons do not fit into his timetable, then we should be talking about finding alternative solutions, and not about simply sending him to the Service Corps." Her glare intensified. "I also want to state for the protocol that I protest against not having been included in the debate that led to such a radical decision regarding one of my wards. When I was informed of this meeting I assumed it would be about discussing Obi-Wan's suitability for the different Service Corps departments in case he doesn't get chosen, and not about his immediate reassignment - a premature reassignment that is not justified."

Obi-Wan shifted a little bit closer to Master Vant and silently cheered her on, though he was careful to not utter a word. The Council of Reassignment would never listen to an Initiate in the same way they listened to another Master. Besides, these people weren't exactly fans of him, not since he had been dragged into this very chamber for the third time within a month because he had punched Bruck into his smug face. They would undoubtedly prefer to get rid of the violent 'problem Initiate' sooner rather than later. Getting confrontational wouldn't improve his situation at all right now, even he could see that. But thankfully, he had his Docent to argue on his behalf with the council, and he was more than happy to let her trounce them.

However, Master Giett did not simply cower before the irate Twi'lek. "We apologize if you feel passed over, Master Vant, and yes, we also want to discuss his suitability for the different corps departments with you, but it is our duty to ensure that Initiate Kenobi gets the best education possible, and passing his final exams has priority over his Jedi training. He clearly struggles to keep up with his classmates, especially in scientific subjects, and there simply is no point in dragging this out for another month. The longer we wait, the farther he lags behind his agemates. We only want what is best for him and he will be sent to the Service Corps soon anyway, or do you know of a potential Master who has shown any interest in him?"

Obi-Wan cringed at that last comment but Master Vant didn't miss a beat. "That is not the point here. The point is that you are about to set a dangerous precedent. The laws of the Jedi Order regarding the training and education of Initiates clearly state that there are only two reasons to prematurely send an Initiate to the Service Corps: one, if they commit a serious offense that disqualifies them from becoming a Knight or two, if they prove that they are not capable of becoming a Jedi by not passing their Initiate Trials. Neither is true for Obi-Wan. He has passed his Trials at his first attempt at the age of ten, and while his disciplinary record is not flawless, he has never done anything that can be considered a crime. If you send him away because of a tight timetable, then who will you send away next and for what reason? You cannot reassign Initiates simply on a whim or because some of their grades are not to your liking. That is not how it works and you should know it!"

Obi-Wan had to bite his cheeks to keep himself from grinning, and the urge to bounce on his feet was almost overwhelming. His Docent was the best! The council so didn't stand a chance against her.

Master Klawa pursed his thin lips at them from his council seat, his own, green lekku twitching slightly. "The statutes of the Order state that Initiates will be reassigned to the Service Corps if they prove themselves incapable of learning the skills required of a Padawan. The term 'Initiate Trial' never appears in the text."

"Possibly not, but that is why the Initiate Trials exist, so that Initiates can prove that they have the skills required to become Padawans," Master Vant shot back. "And that is how that phrase has been interpreted since the statutes have been written down, or has there ever been a case where somebody has been reassigned because of their astronavigation grades? I think not. And let's be honest, prospective Masters do not look at a child's astronavigation or physics grades when they choose a Padawan, they look at their lightsaber skills, their Force abilities and most importantly they look for a connection with the child. Everything else, Padawans then learn at their own rate during their apprenticeship. If Obi-Wan was already a Padawan and had the same problems, we wouldn't be having this conversation. He would simply be given extra lessons by his Master until he passed his final exams."

Master Giett sighed. "That may all be true, Master Vant, but what else do you suggest we do? Things cannot continue like this. Of course, we can simply pull Initiate Kenobi out of some of his Jedi-related Initiate classes in order to be able to send him to his additional remedial classes, but that would in reality be nothing but a _de facto_ reassignment to the Service Corps anyway and it would completely ruin his slim, remaining chances of being chosen as a Padawan. It would be a cruel and pointless measure." The middle-aged human shifted his attention from Master Vant to Obi-Wan. "We are not trying to punish you, Initiate Kenobi. We are trying to do what is best for you."

Obi-Wan straightened, his heart hammering painfully against his ribcage, and grabbed his chance with both hands.

It was now or never.

"I understand, Master Giett, but sending me to the Service Corps is not what is best for me. My talents lie with political science, diplomacy and lightsaber combat, as my grades and my performance in the Initiate Tournament just days ago clearly show. These skills will be absolutely useless in the Service Corps, I would be nothing but a burden there, and I do not want that."

Obi-Wan took a quick breath. Now to the hard part. "I do not ask you to make exceptions for me, Masters, I only ask you to give me the same chance to become a Padawan as you give everybody else. I admit that I have let my grades slip in a few subjects recently because I have been too occupied with preparing for the Initiate Tournament, but the tournament is over now, and I can again invest more time in studying for the subjects that are commonly considered to be less important for a Jedi Knight." He gave Master Giett his best I-am-a-dedicated-Initiate look and continued, "And with all due respect, Master Giett, I doubt that I am the only one who has failed yesterday's astronavigation test, and as Master Vant has just said nobody is going to suggest that any Padawan who has failed that test should be sent to the Service Corps. They will simply get extra lessons from their Masters until their grades get better. If you want to help me, then give me the time to work on improving my astronavigation and physics grades."

Master Ysho raised her eye-ridges, the cool look in her eyes skeptical. "Your problems run a little bit deeper than just failing this one test, Initiate Kenobi, and you will be sent to the Service Corps in four weeks anyway. No matter what, that is hardly enough time to improve your grades, especially without some considerable help and additional lessons. Going to the Service Corps now would be a much better solution, you would have less subjects to study for and much more time to focus on improving in your legally mandatory classes."

Obi-Wan had to bite down on a wave of anger at her dismissive tone and her choice of words. 'Will be sent to the Service Corps anyway', like he would fail no matter what. He also didn't appreciate the reminder that the education provided for Service Corps members was inferior to the education of future Knights.

' _Do not react, Obi-Wan, you need to be reasonable or you are going to achieve nothing here_ ,' he reminded himself.

Then a flash of inspiration struck him and he sucked in a sharp breath.

Help... yes, he needed 'extra lessons and considerable help'.

He smiled at Master Ysho, who narrowed her eyes ever so slightly at him in suspicion.

"I agree that I would profit from some additional help, and I think studying with a private tutor for a few weeks would provide me with that help."

"A personal tutor," Master Giett echoed, a small, amused smile playing around his lips. "And who would be willing _and_ have the time to personally tutor you for hours on end for several weeks, Initiate Kenobi?"

That was a good question, a question Obi-Wan didn't have an answer for, but thankfully he was saved by Master Vant. "That is an excellent idea, and I am sure there is some Knight or Master who is currently stuck in the Temple on medical leave or something similar who would welcome the opportunity to combat their boredom by tutoring an Initiate during the weekends."

Master Klawa didn't try to hide his disapproval. "No Knight or Master will agree to privately tutor Initiate Kenobi. Those with Padawans of their own do not have the time and those without students know better than to give an Initiate so close to aging out false hope that they might choose him. Besides, this will also set a precedent. If we give Initiate Kenobi a tutor, others will start asking for one too, most likely in the hopes that it will give them the chance to get more one-on-one time with a prospective Master. Some Initiates desperate enough might just start purposefully failing tests just to get that chance. _And_ this idea undermines the point of Senior Initiate training weeding out those who cannot deal with the pressure and immense workload of the life of a Knight.

Master Vant's answering stare was icy. "If you have to set a precedent, then I would think a Jedi would choose the precedent that promotes compassion towards the weak instead of indifference. Plus, older students tutor younger ones all the time, even if it is not to the extent that is required here, and there are not only fully-fledged Knights being stuck in the Temple for extended periods of time. You could ask an older Padawan who no longer has to attend classes of their own to tutor Obi-Wan. That way you can avoid setting a dangerous precedent and Obi-Wan gets the help he needs."

Obi-Wan cringed slightly at being called weak, but beggars couldn't be choosers. He would take what he got.

And at least the other councilors didn't seem to be completely opposed to the idea, especially once Master Vant mentioned the option of the tutor being a Padawan. The looks with which they eyed Obi-Wan turned mostly pensive, though Master Klawa still radiated nothing but disapproval. But that was hardly breaking news.

Obi-Wan suppressed the urge to fidget under their intense scrutiny and did his best to present the image of the perfect, serene Initiate, silently thanking Bant for prepping him so thoroughly. Judging from the disgruntled look on Master Klawa's face, he couldn't find so much as a speck of dust on Obi-Wan's tunics to criticize.

Finally, Master Giett stapled his fingers and spoke again. "How about we make a compromise? We will try to arrange for a tutor for you - perhaps there is indeed an older Padawan in the Temple who has some time to spare - and you will be tested weekly to determine your progress. If you pass these tests and if your other grades do not suffer, we will not bother you again until your birthday, but if you fail to meet one of these requirements you will accept an immediate voluntary reassignment to the Service Corps. Do you agree to that?"

Obi-Wan gulped as he held Master Giett's cool gaze. The Master didn't need to say anything else, his expression told Obi-Wan all he needed to know. Master Giett would give him that much, but not a iota more. He either took that offer or they would go back to square one and start arguing all over again - and Obi-Wan would lose.

Weekly extra tests.... that would be hard... it was already difficult to keep up with his normal workload.... but it was better than the alternative, and it might also be a chance to prove that he was better than his reputation.

He glanced at Master Vant. His Docent pursed her lips, but gave a small nod.

She obviously didn't have a better idea either.

Obi-Wan looked back at Master Giett, who was still looking patiently at him, waiting for his answer. Obi-Wan nodded. "Yes, Master. I agree."

"Good. Then I hope we will not see you in this chamber again. You are dismissed."

They didn't need to tell him twice. Obi-Wan quickly bowed and then fled out of the chamber, Master Vant only catching up with him outside as he waited impatiently for the turbolift that would get him out off this blasted tower.

His Docent sighed. "I suggest you forgo fooling around with your friends this weekend and instead spend your free time in the Archives to do some additional studying. It will take the council a few days to find you a tutor, if they find one at all, and you do not have any time to waste."

Obi-Wan nodded grimly and didn't bother pointing out that he no longer had any friends to hang out with anyway... well, except for Bant, who for some reason beyond Bruck harassing them both seemed determined to be his friend. Not that Obi-Wan was about to complain. He liked the feisty little Mon Calamari girl and he was grateful for her company. Which reminded him, he had to tell Bant all about this meeting as soon as possible - perhaps he could give her a quick update between classes - and he needed to figure out how to properly thank her for refusing to give up on him.


End file.
